


A Question of Etiquette

by swtalmnd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 152,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape takes it upon himself to teach Harry the etiquette of arranging homosexual liaisons in the wizarding world. The twins help with the practicals.</p><p>Originally completed in 2008, will be posted chapter by chapter as I have time to code. There are 26 chapters, even when AO3 continually forgets that I've told it this before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Examination

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE stop adding this fic to GoodReads! Nothing makes me want to delete everything more than having my fic life outed in a non-fandom space.

Harry wriggled uncomfortably on the hard wooden stool. He'd never realized just how little physical comfort there was in the Potions classroom until he had to sit his sixth-year exams bruised and exhausted. Parts of him he hadn't known could be sore were aching persistently as he shifted his hips again, trying desperately to concentrate on the questions in front of him despite the events of the day before. He'd been the one to insist that he be here, though, bullying his way down to the dungeons through Madame Pomfrey's protests and Ron's bemusement.

After making it into the bloody class, he wasn't about to give Snape the satisfaction of kicking him out for his Seventh Year just because he'd been too sick to take the end-of-year exam. He had no doubt that Snape would do it, too, no matter that they'd both nearly died last night and only sheer luck and a few well-placed lies had kept them from being on the wrong end of Avada Kedavra. Again.

As it was, Snape's cover was blown and, at this rate, Harry himself had very little future to look forward to; Death Eaters were lurking everywhere, eager to bring the Boy Who Lived back to their Lord for execution, or better yet just enough of him to show the task had already been accomplished. It wasn't safe to leave school grounds for anyone dark-haired and Gryffindor anymore; even one particularly flat-chested Fourth Year girl had nearly got captured last Hogsmeade weekend before someone had noticed she was wearing a skirt.

Of course, that hadn't stopped Harry from rushing in, again, and he had some very unusual bruises to prove it. At least he'd kept Voldemort from killing Snape, which had been looking very likely at this point. Although why he cared whether the greasy git got snuffed wasn't very clear to him at this point, after having spent an hour being browbeaten in the headmaster's office before being allowed to see Madame Pomfrey at all.

He thought about what his life might be like without the tall, disagreeable Potions Master in it, and he could only conclude with a sigh that the answer to that question was, undeniably, "shorter." Snape had been saving his fool hide since his First Year, and hopefully would continue to do so, at least until Harry could fulfill the terms of the prophecy and finally just kill, or die. He shifted again, uncomfortably aware that some of the bruises were in the shape of Snape's long, thin fingers, where they'd clutched at him tightly as they'd Apparated out.  
  
Harry hadn't even know you could Apparate two people, but he'd trusted Snape enough to surrender himself willingly to that harsh embrace, curling against the tall, spare form and basking in the heat that seemed to radiate from the core of him. Harry had completely embarrassed himself, a fact that he could only thank the gods that Snape hadn't brought up during the interminable lecture, by getting hard when Snape's fingers had slid into the cleft of his arse.

He certainly hadn't been planning on his Potions Master being the first to find out he was queer, especially not in such a personal manner. Harry squirmed again, this time with the memory of how close that hand had been to the center of him, fingers a mere inch away from sliding over his entrance.

"Mr. Potter," said a harsh voice behind him, bringing him back to the immediate reality of his Potions exam. "Is there something you wished to discuss with me?"

Harry looked up, shocked to find the room empty except for himself and Professor Snape. His eyes fell on his exam paper, gratified to see that his brain hadn't gone wandering until he'd got it mostly done. "Er, no, I was just..."

Snape's expression faded from its usual sneer, growing unreadable and strange in a way that made Harry squirm in his seat and remember once again those hot, harsh hands on his body. "Distracted?"

Harry dropped his gaze and mumbled, "Yes, sir."

Snape's voice sounded strained and almost kind as he said quietly, "If you wish to discuss anything with me... of a personal nature... I will be available this evening. I believe that I possess some small personal insight into at least one of your current dilemmas."

Harry's eyes snapped up, wide with shock. "Er, yes. Yes, sir, I... I think I'd like that."


	2. A Fine Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry comes to Severus with questions.

Harry had no idea what he was going to say when he got there, but after dinner he resolutely set out for Snape's office. He'd been specifically invited, offered advice, even, by a man who had saved his life repeatedly and just happened to also be the only other person who knew that Harry fancied boys instead of girls. And, of course, had also treated him like something nasty that had been scraped off the bottom of a shoe for most of Harry's academic career.

Harry figured he was in for an interesting evening. If nothing else, it would probably kill the annoying, lingering thoughts he kept having about Snape's long, graceful, dexterous, pale, wandering hands. And where else they might have got to, had there been more than a few seconds available and less than death in pursuit. And, of course, had Harry not, in fact, been Harry at all but someone older, attractive, intelligent and possibly female, although he doubted the last.

With a sigh and quick, furtive adjustment beneath his loose robes, Harry knocked on Snape's office door. "Enter," came the deep voice from inside, and Harry ruefully added that voice to the growing list of things about the Potions Master that could make Harry's prick hard.

He pushed open the door, only to find the office empty and the far door, the one that led deeper into Snape's private quarters, ajar. "Uh, Sir?" called Harry doubtfully.

"In here, Potter, quit dawdling," came Snape's response, floating through the enticingly open doorway.

Harry walked past the shelves of books and bottles and oddments, towards a place few students had ever dared tread. He stopped on the threshold, one hand over his mouth, as he spied Snape in the far room. Snape had already taken off his outer robe, and was undoing the little buttons of his frock coat, revealing the crumpled white shirt beneath. "I've had the house elves prepare us some tea, as it will give us both something to hide behind," he continued, oblivious to Harry's frozen stare.

The waistcoat came off, revealing legs that were long and slender, a chest that was thin but obviously had some musculature visible through the translucent cotton of the shirt, shoulders that were broader and straighter than Harry had ever bothered to imagine. Without all the flowing, imposing black, Snape looked years younger and rather more fit, and gestures that were overdone when covered in billowing robes looking graceful and considered in his shirtsleeves.

Snape looked up from where he was undoing his cuffs. "Well, sit."

Harry had no idea how to interpret this. Snape had found out Harry was gay, and then invited him not only to his office but his private quarters, and now he was _taking off his clothes_. "Er, sir?"

Snape looked up irritably from where he was putting away his cufflinks. The shirtsleeves now hung loose over his hands, and Harry shifted his hips uncomfortably. "What is it, Potter?"

"Why are you, er," Harry swallowed, trying to find the right words, gesturing helplessly towards his teacher. Although Snape was, technically, still completely covered in fabric from neck to ankles, he seemed positively naked compared to his usual attire. "Um, I mean..." Harry swallowed again, then blurted, "Why're you shucking your kit, sir?""

Snape looked down at himself with a scowl, then up again as comprehension dawned. "I assure you, Mr. Potter, I have no intention of removing anything further. I simply prefer not to wear the same outer clothing which has suffered through an entire day of teaching a messy subject to incompetent children when I am in my quarters."

Harry relaxed slightly, breathing a sigh of something that might have been relief and might have been disappointment, and moving finally to sit in one of the available chairs. He finally gave some attention to his surroundings, finding himself in a small sitting room that was decorated tastefully in rich chocolate velvet and ebony furnishings, with small accents of brass here and there. There were two chairs and a chaise lounge next to a fireplace large enough to Floo into, with an assortment of strange and decorative objects scattered along the mantelpiece.

A small ebony coffee table was set with a Slytherin-crested tablecloth, an elegant silver tea set and plates of biscuits and cakes. The painting above the mantel was glaring at Harry disapprovingly over a disconcertingly familiar nose, and the other three walls were covered in bookshelves. Instead of the gloom and dust Harry had somehow expected, the room was well-lit and somehow homey, and kept impeccably clean, no doubt by the Hogwarts house elves.

"I assume my quarters meet with your approval?" said Snape, closing the bedroom door behind him. Harry had been too distracted by watching his professor undress to look much beyond him, and was now regretting the lost opportunity. Snape walked over to him, rolling up his shirtsleeves to reveal long, slender forearms and, shockingly, the Dark Mark. At Harry's gasp, Snape's eyes followed Harry's and he smirked, saying, "As you already knew of its presence, I did not feel the need to conceal it. I can..."

"No," said Harry, holding out a hand. He didn't know why, but suddenly it was very important to him that Snape not regret allowing Harry to see him like this, as a human being and not a scowling professor. "No, it's all right. It was just startling, at first."

"I see," said Snape, walking over to the door to the office. He waved his wand, uttering a simple locking spell, and Harry heard the outer door click shut. Snape closed the inner one by hand, and turned back expectantly.

"Your rooms are quite nice," said Harry, suddenly remembering the earlier question. "Nothing at all like I'd expected from your office."

Snape smiled wryly and said, "The decor in my office serves to enforce the proper attitude in errant students. As we are discussing matters which are both outside the Hogwarts curriculum and quite possibly of an adult nature, I felt it best to treat you as a visiting adult rather than an errant student."

Harry was stunned at this, mind working frantically as Snape sat and began pouring the tea. "I... I really appreciate this, more than... I mean, I know I haven't been..."

Snape waved a hand, silencing Harry. "Do not expect this to erase any of your past transgressions, Mr. Potter. I feel it is my duty as the only faculty member who... shares your predilections... to introduce you to the proper etiquette for such activities among wizards. Some things are beyond personal grievances."

"There's etiquette?" Harry blurted, then blushed.

Snape added a generous dollop of milk and three sugars to one of the teacups, then handed it to a stunned Harry. He loved his tea like this, sweet and substantial in a way he'd never had it at home, and the small kindness that at some point Snape had noticed how Harry took the endless cups of tea they'd been fed by the Headmaster was almost more shocking than the idea that there was etiquette involved when blokes got with other blokes.

"Although there are not the same prejudices present in Wizarding society that there are amongst Muggles, it is still considered something to practice behind closed doors, as it were. There are ways for men to recognize others with my preference, generally more subtle than the manner in which I was inadvertently informed of yours," Snape was sneering again, but it seemed softer as he sipped his cup of tea, unadulterated but for a paper-thin slice of lemon floating serenely on top.

"About that... er... no one knows, yet," said Harry, blushing fiercely.

Snape raised an eyebrow at that, and said, "Not even your two shadows, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not like I fancy Ron, and he fancies Hermione anyway, so it's never really come up. Plus, I did make a go at girls once last year. It just didn't, er, go. Anywhere."

"Undoubtedly the Headmaster is aware, as he manages to stay informed of any number of things which are none of his business," said Snape. "I do feel that perhaps your friends would make better confidantes in the future, but I am willing to fill that role temporarily as long as you do not overstep the boundaries of familiarity." Snape looked very uncomfortable and almost furtive as he glanced at Harry over the top of his teacup.

"Do you, er," said Harry, thinking hard, "I mean... you don't think you did anything wrong, do you? You were saving my life."

Snape set the cup down with a sigh. "I realize in retrospect that I was not as... careful with the placement of my hands as I could have been. Nor did you, in all honestly, really need to be quite so intimately in contact with me. I could simply have grabbed your arm, but I am out of practice Apparating with a second person, and I wanted to be sure." Snape paused, and that furtive look crossed his face again as he added quietly, "Or so I have told myself."

Harry was starting to feel rather as though someone had been slapping him across the back of the head for the last five minutes. The implications of Snape's final admission were many and varied, but the one his mind latched onto was that Snape might have enjoyed their embrace as much as Harry had. "I minded the bruises a bit, but otherwise I'd rather have been embarrassed and in one piece than proper and splinched."

Snape's cheeks coloured slightly, and he sipped at his tea. Harry held his own saucer carefully in his lap, hoping to at least distract from if not disguise the erection that had been dogging him all evening. He took a long drink of his own tea, letting the sweet, creamy flavor seep into him, relaxing in its familiarity, and waited to see what Snape would say next. "Be that as it may, we shall speak no more of it."

"So, er, what is the proper way to let someone know you're up for it?" asked Harry, desperate to get something other than a hopeless infatuation out of the conversation.

Snape shifted uncomfortably and set his tea back down, reaching for one of the small lemon biscuits and setting it just off center on his empty plate. He sat back, obviously composing his thoughts, and Harry distracted himself from the small powdering of sugar on those graceful fingers by picking out a small assortment of treats for himself, and arranging them on his own little plate. He had just about run out of ways to stack them when Snape cleared his throat, and Harry looked up.

"Very few Wizarding liaisons of this sort last for more than a night or two," said Snape quietly. "While it is possible and even quite respectable for two wizards to marry, the taboos against conventional methods of courtship are strong, and tend to discourage such alliances before they can be formed. Many Wizarding relationships of this sort are conducted between an older man and a younger one, as well, a means by which the proper etiquette is often passed on."  
  
Harry blushed unaccountably at this, but Snape ignored it, soldiering on. "A wizard who is open to these sorts of relationships will often wear a small but obvious piece of jewelry to indicate his preference. When I am open to such things, which is rarely due my position as a teacher, I have a small signet ring which I wear on the smallest finger of my right hand. I would show it to you, but do not keep it at Hogwarts at all, to prevent the temptation to court a student."

"So, er, Wizarding boys know this stuff?" asked Harry, trying desperately to ignore the last statement.

"For someone such as, for example, Mr. Malfoy, the basic signs are a small part of the etiquette he grew up learning. Miss Parkinson, as well, would know not to expect more than a polite dance invitation from such a man, nor would mothers attempt to fling their daughters at him. Certain of the students would recognize the sign, and consider it an invitation to indiscretion, should they themselves also lean in that direction. Although, as far as I am aware, you are the only student over the age of consent at this time with such tastes."

"Wait, so it's not against the rules if I'm sixteen?" blurted Harry, a wild hope kindling in him. If Harry was the only available target, maybe Snape would return some small measure of his interest.

Snape glared at him sharply and snapped, "Of course it is, foolish boy. But it is unthinkable for me to consider such things about anyone who is not at least of an age to legally consent."

"Oh," said Harry softly, optimism once again turning to cold realism. "So, er, there's not much chance for me while I'm here, then?"

Snape rolled his eyes and sneered, saying, "I have doubt there's much hope for you, period, boy."

"Right, thanks," said Harry glumly, retreating behind his swiftly-cooling tea. Snape seemed to catch himself from saying anything further, instead taking a single, neat bite of his lemon biscuit. He set it back down and absently licked the sugary crumbs from his fingertips, bringing life right back into Harry's wilting erection. Snape's lips were thin and dry, but his tongue was pink and wet, his teeth even and white. Harry wondered suddenly how he would taste, of tea and lemon and sugar, and blushed.

Snape picked up his tea and took a sip, making a face at the temperature. He picked up his wand from the table where he'd left it and cast a simple warming spell, causing steam to rise up from both cups and the pot as well. "Be that as it may, you will be among wizards for at least part of your summer, and assuming you have a future, it will behoove you to avoid the normal indiscretions allowed the young due to your unfortunate celebrity."

"So, er, all this..." Harry made a feeble gesture between them.

"It is an optimistic attempt to shield you from the sorts of blunders most wizards of our persuasion make at your age," said Snape sharply, although the sneer had faded somewhat.

"Oh," said Harry again. "Er, thanks. I mean... no one really bothers to tell me about stuff like this, they just figure I'll pick it up, because my parents were... I guess they forget I grew up with Muggles."

Snape nodded once, and sipped his tea again. "I will teach you to recognize the type of sign that will alert you to a wizard of our inclination--"

"Can't you just say 'gay'?" said Harry, exasperated. "Or is that a dirty word?"

Snape looked faintly shocked and irritated. "Don't interrupt. And yes, it is a dirty word, which I would advise you avoid in polite society."

"Bugger," said Harry softly, garnering a reproving glare from Snape. "So I'll have to go around saying things like 'preference' and 'predilection' when I'm hitting on a bloke?"

Snape coloured again, just a soft flush of pink across his high cheekbones which made Harry wonder once more. "If I were attempting to solicit your company, which I most assuredly am not, I would do so in a very circumspect manner, yes." Snape sighed and put his tea down altogether, uncrossing his legs and rising.

Harry tried very hard not to get caught staring at the line of Snape's trousers and the way they bunched and moved where his legs met. He'd never thought about Snape having a cock before, but now he couldn't get the image out of his head. Snape walked over to the mantelpiece, ignoring the glower from the painting and fidgeting with one of several small, decorative vials displayed there.

Snape's voice was somewhat low and rough as he said, "If you are still amenable to learning from me this time next week, I will send for a few things and show you how the opening gambits of such a negotiation might go."

"Er, what?" said Harry, confused.

Snape rolled his eyes again. "If you are so inclined, I am offering to demonstrate to you the etiquette for, as you so charmingly put it, hitting on a bloke. I will show you the proper way to make, accept, refuse or simply recognize an offer, although," he paused, fixing Harry with a piercing stare, "My tutelage will not extend to any sort of inappropriate physical contact."

"So, er, you'll show me how to pick up a one-nighter, but not how to snog?" said Harry, desperate to make sure he'd got this right. He knew it might embarrass them both to death, but if it didn't then Snape was offering him vital information towards his future ability to get laid. And right now, his prick was valiantly cheering on anything that might help it get some attention other than his own right hand.

Snape looked faintly disgusted, a milder expression than anything Harry was familiar with, and said, "Yes, Mr. Potter. I suppose one could put it that way." This time, Snape paused for so long that Harry almost thought their conversation was over, until he heard that deep voice rumble nearly inaudibly, "I will, in addition, once you have left Hogwarts and no longer my student, allow for one single session where we will speak, and speak only, of the details of what happens behind closed doors."

Harry blinked. Snape was... "Wait. What you said before... normally when some older bloke picks up this younger bloke, that's how the young guy learns how it's done? So why are you offering to help me out without, y'know, anything... I mean, what do you get out of this?"

Snape sighed deeply. "I will say this once and only once, and I will not answer questions on this subject, nor will I allow it to be revisited in the future." Harry waited with bated breath, curiosity eating through him almost as sharply as the newfound desire that seemed to dog his every thought. Snape gathered himself up, then turned abruptly away, features entirely hidden by the black curtain of his hair.

His voice was gravel-rough and painful when he finally spoke. "When I was your age, I was inducted to the underground society of wizards through unsavory means, a circumstance which I have regretted my entire life. I was no prize even as a youth -- an attractive and famous young man such as yourself would be a target for any number of unscrupulous men, and I feel that it is my duty to prevent what happened to me from happening to any of the young men who have passed through my care."

Harry felt as though he'd been deflated, his whole body losing something as the pain and loss in that statement swept through him. "That's... thank you." He thought there must be something else to say to that back, now slightly bowed under the weight of his memories. Harry stood and tentatively made his way over to his professor's side. He laid a single hand on Snape's shoulder, bemused to find him not nearly as tall as he'd always seemed, although perhaps it was just Harry who had grown.

He was surprised and gratified when Snape did not move away, but instead lightly ghosted over Harry's fingers with his own before straightening and turning his face to Harry's. His black eyes were glittering and bright, and Harry had to suppress a startling urge to kiss those sparkling eyelashes. "I appreciate what you're doing for me, sir, thank you," said Harry, trying to put all the new warmth he felt for Snape in his words.

Harry could sense Snape growing uncomfortable with their closeness, so he pulled away and grinned to break the moment. "It doesn't mean I'll hate you any less during Occlumency lessons, though."

Snape laughed, deep and warm, Harry felt a myriad of emotions thrilling through him, astonishment and happiness, lust and the accomplishment of having been the one to make this dour man laugh. "I rather suspect Potions will continue to be a trial as well, Mr. Potter, assuming you were not too distracted to pass your exam."

Harry coughed, and blushed, and stepped over to pick up his teacup. "Well, you know. It's very distracting to sit an exam with an attractive man's handprint bruised into one's posterior," said Harry lightly, choosing his words with care.

Snape stalked over to his chair, dropping gracefully into it and picking up his own still-steaming tea. "Indeed, Mr. Potter," he said sarcastically, raising one eyebrow. He took a delicate sip and added, "That was practically subtle, for you."

"Er, practice makes perfect?" said Harry, blushing into his now-empty teacup.

"You will, I hope, refrain from practicing outside of this room until I have given you leave?" Snape's voice was casual, his face smirking, but his body was held with a careful tension that made Harry wonder just what was at stake here besides his famous reputation.

"Yes, sir, I solemnly swear to only flirt with you, and only in your quarters, sir," Harry replied, taking the flippant route to avoid any more overly serious discussion. He didn't know what had happened to Snape as a youth that might have been worse than the taunts and cruelty Harry had witnessed in the Pensieve, but he had a feeling that he would be grateful for the rest of his life to have avoided it, if he ever found out.

Snape smiled faintly at that and drained his own teacup. "Then we will consider today's lesson concluded. For next week's lesson, and please, do not share the details of your exploration with me at any point, I would like you to consider what role you wish to play in these liaisons, as the etiquette is different depending on your preference."

"Er, what?" said Harry, lost again in the maze of euphemisms and innuendo.

"Mr. Potter," said Snape with a sigh, "You are aware, at least in the abstract, of what it is that men do together?"

Harry thought for a moment. Snogging, yes, and of course hands. He had an idea that there were mouths involved sometimes, but girls did that, too. He'd heard jokes about... "Wait, you mean buggering?" said Harry, forgetting his careful language.

Snape rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Yes, Mr. Potter. In such situations there is generally an active and receptive role, as it were. It would behoove you to consider which you would prefer."

"Er, sorry, yes." As Harry had only the broadest of notions of just what was involved in buggery, he wasn't sure how much of a decision he could make. "Couldn't you just teach me both?"

Snape glared at him sharply. "You have no idea what I am referring to, do you?"

Harry hung his head, setting down his useless tea things. "No, sir."

Snape rolled his eyes once more, an expression Harry was learning to hate just as much as his sneer. "I am not sure that I can elaborate in any manner within the bounds of propriety for teacher/student interactions. I suggest you ask someone over the summer. The Weasley twins would probably be glad to assist you, although I highly recommend you refuse any sort of practical demonstration."

"Wait, Fred and George?" said Harry, mind suddenly filled with some really arousing imagery. His deflated prick took an interest, and he picked up the plate of biscuits.

"More tea?" said Snape smoothly, reaching out for the pot to refill his own cup.

Harry shot him a look and said, "Yes, please, sir."  
  
"Suffice it to say that while I have had a similar conversation with them, I will not betray their confidence any further with details of the outcome. I suggest you ask them yourself, as they will require rather less tact and discretion than anyone else I could refer you to," he said slowly, adding the milk and sugar to Harry's tea as he spoke.

Harry took the cup from Snape, fingers once again brushing against his professor's, this time accidentally. "Oh! Thanks," said Harry, feeling a flush of heat rise from his groin to the tips of his hair. Snape's hands were warmer than he'd expected, solid and real in a way Harry's mental image of his Potions Master had never been before. His brain was starting to feel strangely full and slightly wriggly, between the thoughts of Snape's bedroom and him undressing in it, and images of the Weasley twins in their single wide bed at the Burrow.

"In light of your current ignorance, I believe it would be better if we simply leave the rest of your etiquette lessons for next year," said Snape, sipping his tea and reaching out for his lemon biscuit. Harry was fascinated by the shape, the perfect semicircular gap where Snape's teeth had been, the way one point disappeared into his mouth, leaving sugar behind on his lips. Harry was disappointed when Snape neglected to lick the crumbs dusting his fingertips, and almost missed it when he said, "You are, however, welcome to come by for tea, as I feel it would behoove us to attempt to repair our relationship if we are to make any progress in teaching you to relate to others."

Harry sipped the perfect tea, looking down at the tiny treacle tart untouched on his plate amongst lemon, ginger and sugar biscuits, as well as a small, perfect slice of cream cake. Snape had gone out of his way to make Harry comfortable, and was putting forth a huge olive branch. "I would very much enjoy the pleasure of your company, Professor Snape," said Harry, forcing himself to believe in a sentiment that came out sounding so completely wrong to his ears. "Perhaps we could engage in a game of Wizard's Chess?"

For some reason, this last caused Snape to snort his tea, and it took a moment for him to recover enough to reply, his voice heavily laden with amusement, "And you, Mr. Potter, do you prefer to play black or white?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, remembering the earlier question. "This is some sort of weird gay code phrase, isn't it?"

Snape let out a small almost-not-smirking smile and nodded. "Although I'll thank you not to use that word again," he added as an afterthought.

"And you are perfectly aware I meant actual chess, right?" said Harry, allowing his own bottled laughter to creep into his words.

"Quite," said Snape, raising an eyebrow. "If I thought otherwise, I would rescind the invitation. As it stands, I have a set of my own, and will be sure to have it ready for us next week."

Harry grinned and sipped his tea, feeling relaxed in Snape's presence for the very first time that he could recall. He might hate his Potions master, and positively loathe his Occlumency instructor, but the man sitting across from him in his shirtsleeves was altogether new. The Dark Mark was stark and strange against the white skin, and in the warm firelight Snape seemed less sallow than simply pale and tired. Deprived of its usual sneering mask, Snape's face was striking rather than ugly, high cheekbones and prominent nose, intelligent black eyes and invitingly mobile mouth.

Harry sighed once more, then straightened up, teacup nearly obscuring his face as he forced himself to get it out of the way and ask, "Will you take it amiss if I do make such a proposition, once I am no longer your student?"

Snape's eyes flashed, and the sneer fell back into place like armour. "If you do not appreciate the value of what I am offering..."

Harry held up a hand, shaking his head desperately. "I'm not making fun. I really..." Harry wracked his brain for the right words. "If my attentions would be unwelcome, I would prefer to have the intervening time to attempt to transfer my fascination to someone who would actually be interested."

Snape raised one eyebrow at him, expression schooled into the one he used when expressing doubt that Neville could remember his own name, let alone the ingredients to a potion. "Indeed, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sank back into his chair, giving up on the formal speech and just going for broke. "Well, we wouldn't be here at all if I didn't find you attractive, now would we?"

Snape coloured slightly and said coldly, "One assumes that it was simply the proximity to another man combined with the narrow avoidance of death. The body often reasserts itself to life under such circumstances."

"Oh, bollocks," said Harry, exasperated. "I got hard because you're hot when you're angry, and you've got the best hands I've ever seen, so stop being a bastard. If you don't want me, that's fine, but if you do then I think I ought to know."

"If I did, I assure you it would be completely inappropriate and inadvisable for you to know, actually," said Snape, the pink in his cheeks growing brighter. There was a long pause, during which Harry felt a bit like a bug under glass as Snape scrutinized him carefully before saying, "However, once you have left my tutelage, you are free to ask the question again."

Harry worked through Snape's torturous language and concluded that Snape did in fact want to engage in a bit of buggery with Harry, but wouldn't even unbend enough to admit it while Harry was still a student, let alone have at. "Right. After the Leaving Feast, and don't think I won't."

Snape nodded, once, and drained his tea in one graceful swallow. Harry tried very hard not to watch his Adam's apple bob beneath the high white collar of his shirt, and fidgeted with drinking his own tea when he failed. Setting the cup down with a gentle clink of china, Snape stood and walked over to his bedroom door. "The hour has grown quite late. You are welcome to finish your sweets, but I have a routine that I would prefer not to further disrupt. Do not, under any circumstances other than direst emergency, attempt to enter my bedchamber. I am going to have a bath."

Harry was supremely grateful that Snape turned away at just that moment, and thus completely missed the expression of shocked lust that passed over Harry's features. Snape, only two closed doors away, was going to actually get completely starkers. And wash, all that lovely slick soap gliding over the planes of chest and stomach, thigh and back, and of course the narrow, tight arse Harry had been avoiding letting himself acknowledge.

Harry finished his tea in record time, stuffing down the treacle tart and grabbing one of the lemon biscuits before he practically ran out, only stopping to be absolutely sure Snape's office door locked behind him. He headed towards the Prefect's bath, which would hopefully be deserted at an hour when most students were already safely ensconced in their Common Rooms. He had a rather large problem to take care of, which was only exacerbated by the sweet flavour of lemons melting over his tongue from the biscuit.


	3. A Fond Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Severus play a rather pointed game of chess.

Harry had dressed carefully for tonight, casual with his one pair of jeans that almost fit, a bright red Weasley jumper that actually flattered his newly broadening chest, and sweaty palms rubbed over both. At the end of Potions Snape had called his name in that voice like Turkish coffee, thick and hot and bitter, and informed him evenly that his presence would be expected at nine o'clock, handing Harry a pass for being out past curfew. Tonight was the last night before the last day of class, before packing and goodbyes and going back to the Dursleys.

Harry knew the exact moment when he'd started thinking of Snape as sex on toast, and it wasn't helping at all that it had coincided with Snape treating him like a human being for the very first time ever. He willed his body to behave, hoped the plates would be bigger or the chess set would hide his lower body, and wished he had any idea of what he was doing. Then Harry inhaled, exhaled, and raised his hand to knock on the closed door of Snape's office.

Instead of a disembodied voice, Harry was surprised to find himself face-to-face with Snape as the door opened abruptly under his hand. "I was beginning to think you'd never actually knock," said Snape snidely, opening the door wide and gesturing Harry back towards his private rooms.

Snape was wearing a close-fitting cream dress shirt today, with a more modern cut than his usual attire, the collar open two buttons and the sleeves once again rolled up to reveal the Mark. His trousers were fine grey wool, and made his legs look even longer than last week's black ones. His feet were bare, his skin flushed slightly pink and hair damp and curling at the ends. Harry walked past Snape, not quite brushing but quite close enough to feel the heat radiating from his spare form.

Harry shivered, knowing he was doomed already, frustrated desire curling into a heavy pool of molten lead in his groin. He was gratified to see that the chess set would, in fact, shield his lower body from sight. The two chairs had been turned towards one another, and a thin, wide table set between them. The chessboard was in the center, and a cup of tea and plate of biscuits were already set out on either side. Harry took the same chair he had last time, settling in against the fire-warmed velvet while Snape locked his office.

Harry was momentarily tempted to steal a sip of Snape's tea, just to have a memory of the flavour, but instead he folded his hands in his lap in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner and sat back to wait patiently. Snape strode over to a bookshelf and bent down to pull something off one of the lower shelves, and Harry's breath caught at the sight of the grey wool pulled taut over Snape's arse. Black robes certainly hid a lot of otherwise fine things.

Harry wondered how he'd survive the night, considering he'd only just arrived and was already desperate for a few moments alone with his right hand. "Thank you for inviting me, sir," he said softly when Snape straightened, and he could find his voice again.

Snape turned, face strangely blank, and padded over to join Harry by the fire. Harry was mildly shocked and oddly aroused by the fact that Snape hadn't bothered to put on shoes, and he squirmed briefly in his seat at the images that conjured up, of Snape's toes gliding up his leg, Snape's heel pressing against him, his cock curving up to fit the arch of Snape's foot. Harry coughed and picked up his tea, hoping to disguise the sudden flush of his cheeks.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, I am quite sincere in my wish to overcome our mutual animosity," said Snape, setting a book down on the table next to Harry's tea. He tapped it with one long finger and added, "I believe this will help get you started. Consider it a summer reading assignment." Harry reached curiously for the book, which Snape handed over with a guarded look. "I will expect it to be returned to me in the same condition at the start of the next term," he added severely.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, swallowing hard. The Dursleys hadn't managed to hide his homework from him for a couple of summers now, so he shouldn't have any problem finishing up the thin volume, or keeping it safe from Dudley. "Thank you, sir," he added for good measure before looking down at the book.

It was bound in soft green fabric, and had the title etched out in shining silver letters on its cover. "Among Wizards," it read, with a tiny drawing of two crossed wands right below. Harry moved to open it, but Snape's hand laid itself over his own, causing him to forget his own name, let alone what he'd been thinking at the moment.

"Wait until you are away from here, and show the book to no one, not even your cohorts. I should not give it to you at all, but you are far less worldly than I could ever have guessed," said Snape seriously.

His hand withdrew, and Harry took a deep, shaky breath, trying to process his words. He looked back down at the book, suddenly getting an entirely different mental image off the cover picture. "Oh," he said softly. "I... thank you, sir. I don't know what to say."

Snape's cheeks had gone slightly pink again, and Harry set the book down and went back to fidgeting with his tea. There was a long, uncomfortable silence until Snape ground out, "I could not in good conscience allow Fred and George Weasley to be your only influence in such... vital matters."

Harry smiled softly, thinking of just how he'd like for Snape to influence him. "Well, you did tell me not to accept any practical lessons from them," he said impudently. "Although I'm not sure how I'll manage to ask them about it at all if I'm only allowed to flirt with you."

Snape coughed lightly into his tea, something very nearly like a smile widening his mouth as he replied, "I will release you from your vow with regards to them, although I would once again advise you watch yourself. While I do not think they would harm you, their sense of humour was always a bit too... callous, for my tastes."

Harry considered their very public pranks, but also how kind Fred and George had been to their family, and by extension Harry, when they thought no one would know. "I think that's as much an illusion as your office," said Harry thoughtfully. He stared at the immobile chessboard for a few moments before something occurred to him. "You won't be mad at me if we... I mean, if anything happens..."

Snape frowned and sipped his tea, avoiding Harry's eyes. "Firstly, it is an age-old wisdom that one should not engage in any activity which one is too embarrassed to speak of. Secondly, while I would not personally trust the Weasleys in my office, let alone my bed, you have a markedly different relationship with them. Third and most important, I am your teacher, not your father. I am well aware that I have no real say in your dalliances, but am merely attempting to shelter you from the worst possibilities. As much as I am loathe to admit it, I do not think that Fred and George Weasley are anywhere near the worst that you could do."

Harry worked his way through the logic of Snape's little speech, and a treacle tart as well, to cover his confusion. He washed both down with the last of his tea and set the empty cup in its saucer, then turned back to Snape. "All right. I won't promise not to do anything with Fred or George--"

"And," said Snape shortly.

"Er, what?" said Harry, his train of thought derailed by Snape's interruption.

"I believe you will find your choices are not Fred _or_ George, but Fred _and_ George. They come, as it were, as a set," Snape's cheeks were quite pink now, and he looked faintly embarrassed, as though he'd revealed more than he should, whether about himself or them.

Harry looked at Snape carefully, then replied, "And you know this because...?"

Snape coughed gently. "Although I felt it wisest to decline, they made me a rather... intriguing offer the day they left Hogwarts."

"Oh!" said Harry, desperately tamping down images in his brain. "That's..." Harry trailed off, his mind wandering into completely unfamiliar and inflammatory territory.

Snape coughed gently and said, "Yes, well. Perhaps it is time we began our chess game?"

Harry forcibly pulled himself back from the brink of madness, or at least combustion, and wished shakily for more tea. As if reading his mind, an idea which made Harry blanch considering what had just been in it, Snape summoned the pot and poured them both fresh tea. Harry allowed the Potions Master to fix both their cups, enjoying the precision of his hands as he mixed ingredients. "Thank you, Professor Snape," said Harry as he accepted the cup.

Snape made a pained face and said, "Perhaps it would be best if you call me Severus during these sessions. It might help to distance us from less friendly associations."

Harry blinked. "Er, yes, all right. You'll call me Harry, then?"

Snape nodded, then inclined his head towards the chess set, settling back into his seat with his tea. "I have gone to the liberty of giving you the white side, as you are the less experienced player."

Something about the careful way in which Snape spoke reminded Harry of his question last week. "That would be the usual manner in which these things are done, then?" he asked, hoping Snape would pick up on the allusion, even if Harry didn't quite know what he was alluding to.

"That is up to the inclinations of the players, but it does often work out that way, yes," Snape replied, his voice and face carefully bland and neutral. "I personally prefer to allow for whatever suits the situation best."

Harry hid his smile behind his tea, and made the obvious opening move of the chess game before answering, "That seems quite sensible."

Snape raised his eyebrow and made an answering move. "Indeed," he said quietly as he leaned back into his chair. There was a companionable lull as they sipped their tea and played, the pieces dutiful and cooperative. Once Snape was obviously trouncing him, Harry decided he wanted something besides biscuits to distract himself from his impending doom.

"How long have you had the set?" Harry asked, contemplating his next move. "They're quite obedient, nothing at all like Ron's or Seamus'."

"This set has been in my family for several centuries," Snape replied, staring into his third cup of tea. Steam curled gently around his face, translucent white in contrast to the solid black of his hair. Harry was surprised to realize that the hair was glossy and soft now that it had dried, forming wispy tendrils that just begged to be brushed aside by a tender hand. Snape looked up and caught Harry staring, captured Harry's eyes with his own glittering black ones. "You passed Potions, by the way, despite leaving some answers blank on the exam."

Harry blinked, then grinned. "Looks like you're stuck with me for another year, then. Has Professor Dumbledore said anything about the other?"

Snape inclined his head. "Once you have made your final requisite stay with your... family," Snape said the word as though he were speaking of one of Neville's more spectacularly odious attempts at potion making, "I will be resuming those lessons during the rest of the summer, as well as your final school year."

Harry groaned aloud. "Not even a proper holiday!"

Snape smirked. "Some things transcend school schedules, Mr. Potter."

"Harry," he corrected absently, finally spotting and making a move.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Harry, yes. We could..." he stopped, examining the board. "That was clever."

Harry smirked. Playing against Ron had taught Harry how to hold out against terrible odds, fighting to the bitter end. He still usually lost, but he'd at least got so Ron had to work for his victories. "We could what, Severus?" Harry asked, trying the name out carefully.

"We could begin our etiquette lessons then, as well. Assuming a modicum of privacy can be had in amongst the busybodies." Snape looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I suppose I could always ask the Headmaster to allow you to Floo here for your Occlumency lessons, but..."

"I don't think I could handle both in one day," said Harry softly. The Occlumency lessons were still horrid, and, oh god, he'd have to deal with Snape seeing the things he'd been thinking about. One more year of this torture and then... what? Harry knew he wanted to hit on Snape, but that didn't do anything about the rest of his life, about Voldemort or a career. Harry put his head in his hands.

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Snape, voice puzzled and strangely free of contempt.

Harry shrugged halfheartedly. "Half-hoping embarrassment does me in before Voldemort gets the chance?"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Snape said sharply, but his eyes held concern when Harry looked up.

"You're going to find out anyway, I suppose," Harry muttered, sinking down in his chair. "I've been having... inappropriate thoughts. And dreams."

Snape's look grew vaguely alarmed, "You've spoken with the Headmaster about these, I hope?"

Harry laughed hollowly. "I'm pretty certain Voldemort isn't sending these. Unless you think he's got some evil plan that involves a lot of shagging, or ruining all my pyjamas."

Snape's cheeks flamed red as comprehension dawned. "Ah. Well, I'm sure you must realize by now that I can be trusted not to speak of such things to the object or objects of your affections."

Harry made a frustrated noise in his throat. "Don't you get it, Severus? You are the object of my affections." Snape looked awfully stunned for someone who had been told the same thing only a week ago. "Although the twins do guest star rather a lot," he added, as an afterthought.

That last got a shocked laugh out of Snape, and Harry followed suit, drowning his embarrassment in snickers. The whole thing was absurd, really, worrying that during his lessons in not having his mind read, he'd end up showing his teacher the fantasies which said teacher had already stated unequivocally that he wanted no part in fulfilling. Snape's laughter had subsided to a quiet chuckle, his face hidden in one hand.

Harry finally got tired of being laughed at and said petulantly, "It's your own fault for being so... so..."

"So what, Harry? Cruel, cold, dismissive, unfair, greasy, antagonistic, and vile?" he snapped back, eyes flashing.

"Sexy, honorable, intelligent, witty, barefoot and did I mention sexy?" Harry retorted, annoyed. "You grabbed my arse first, anyway," he muttered, crossing his arms and sulking.

Snape pushed abruptly away from the table, causing a small chorus of protest among the chess pieces, and went over to stand by the fireplace, one hand clasping the other wrist loosely behind his back as he stared into the flames as though they held the answer. "Tried to get yourself a bit of forbidden tail, eh? I always told you your perversions would get you in the end," said the portrait above him. It was the first time Harry had heard it speak, and its voice was reedy and petulant.

Snape growled, and Harry's eyes went wide. "I told you once and I will tell you again, do not speak while the boy is here or I'll have you burned."

The man in the painting crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. Harry stood carefully and went over to where Snape was standing. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I know you weren't trying anything, it's just the first time I ever really saw you as a man, and not my villainous Potions professor." Harry felt miserable. He'd known his affections had no chance of being returned while he was a student, but he didn't realize it made Snape quite so... volatile. "I-- I'll try and get over it, all right?"

Snape froze, then turned slowly towards Harry. His face was a still, blank mask, eyes shuttered and unreadable as he said carefully, "What makes you think that I want you to get over anything?"

Harry had a sudden image of Snape in the circle of Death Eaters, using just this face and voice to keep himself alive. He shuddered at the implications of it, and turned his own face to the flames before answering quietly, "You just seemed so angry about it."

He heard Snape take a deep breath next to him, and snuck a peek at the still-impassive face. The firelight flattered him, softening his features and highlighting his black hair in red and gold, and Harry had to banish the sudden urge to close the careful distance between them and kiss the tension out of that wide mouth. Snape looked up at him, and he blushed and forced his gaze back to the fire.

"I am angry at myself. I am not in a position to take advantage of what you are so very nearly offering, and had thought myself past the time when temptation would cause me to skirt the edge of propriety so thinly." His voice was perfectly even, as though he were discussing the weather or price of beetle's eyes. "I have told myself that I can allow myself the pleasure of your company simply so that we do not exacerbate the situation through continued animosity, and yet," his voice grew lower, harsher, "I find myself laying out something very near a seduction when I do."

"Except that you haven't made a single move to touch me, or even said anything remotely improper, at least until I forced you to just now," said Harry quietly. "I mean, if you weren't my teacher, this would be totally acceptable, wouldn't it?"

Snape nodded softly, then spoke in a resigned voice, "But I am your teacher, and I doubt the Headmaster would take kindly to us flouting this particular set of rules."

"Will it be so bad to wait a year?" Harry asked. "I mean, it's not like we've got much of a basis now anyway, aside from how good you look in that outfit. This way we get to find out if we can even stand one another for more than a few hours before it all gets mucked up with kissing."

Snape looked over, amazement etched on his features alongside the perpetual fatigue and underlying worry. "That, Harry, is a remarkably mature sentiment."

Harry shrugged, grinning despite himself. "Freak occurrence? I'll try not to do it again, sir."

"Severus," he corrected, almost too softly for Harry to hear, before turning and gesturing towards the chairs, "Shall we finish our game?"

Harry spotted their half-empty cups and became uncomfortably aware of how much tea he'd drunk so far tonight. "Er, how about you pour some more tea and I'll just go get rid of what I've already had?" he said, blushing.

Snape laughed again, and the tension finally broke completely. His voice was rich with good humour as he said, "The bathroom is through my bedchamber."

"Right," said Harry, feeling the dark-chocolate sound of Snape's laughter down to his toes. "Thanks, Severus. I'll be quick." If he could manage to get soft long enough to piss, that is.

He walked over to the door, trying not to think about Snape undressing, or Snape naked, or Snape lying in the huge four-poster bed beckoning for Harry to join him and get a far more practical and hands-on lesson than whatever was in that little green book. Instead, he forced himself to look around quickly as he moved through the room.

The room itself was larger than Harry had expected, every bit as big as the sitting room, and the bed sidled up against the far wall was draped in rich charcoal velvet with crisp white sheets just peeking over the top where the house elves had turned it down for the night. A set of deep green silk pyjama bottoms were neatly laid out atop a matching dressing gown. The bed itself was quite high, and had a set of worn wooden steps leading up to it, inviting one to roll around on the expanse. Next to it there was a nightstand containing a few books, a glass and pitcher, and a couple of small potion bottles that itched at Harry's curiosity.

There were more bookshelves in here, this time containing fiction and poetry, and an assortment of strange and beautiful decorative objects scattered here and there. One glass-fronted case held an entire collection of intricately sculpted bottles, each gilded, painted, filled with shimmering liquid, or even all three. The wardrobe and dresser took up the wall on the left, flanking a door that obviously led to the bathroom. There were no windows to break up the room, and no paintings either, just a mirror above the wide dresser. The dresser itself, like everything in Snape's quarters, was ebony wood with brass fittings, and the top held a scattering of personal items.

The bathroom was tiled in patterns of black and white, stark and elegant, with brass fixtures and towels of soft fuzzy brown that matched the velvet in the sitting room. There were more mysterious potions in here, and Harry closed the door behind him before blatantly rifling through them, trying to learn a bit more about his mysterious professor. He guiltily tried to will down his erection and not look at the sunken tub, a smaller version of the prefect's bath that looked as if it might hold two if they were close friends.

He brushed his fingers across the still-damp towel folded in the rack, then pressed his face and breathed in the scent of laundry soap, shampoo and skin. He wondered which was which, and suppressed the sudden desire to smell Snape's hair when he went back out, instead peeking curiously at the book set on a low table near the edge of the tub. It had a photo of two men on the cover, who winked at Harry before going back to snogging with apparent enthusiasm.

Harry blushed and set the book down quickly, instead moving to rifle through and smell all of Snape's hair and body potions. He found his hand wandering down to stroke himself through his thick jeans, and gave up, moving over to the toilet. He was already wound so tight it wouldn't take but a few strokes to bring him off, and then he could piss in peace and go back out there with only the fear of having been overheard wanking in a professor's bathroom in the middle of a friendly game of chess.

He pulled his cock out, fixing in his mind the smell of the towel, the image of Snape's face in the firelight, of his arse bending over in those fitting grey trousers, of Snape's feet and what they might've done in Harry's lap had there not been rules against such things. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out, and sure enough, it only took a bare dozen strokes before he was coming into his own hand, careful to catch the mess in his palm. It wouldn't do for Snape to find semen spattered about his bathroom after Harry left, after all.

He licked his palm thoughtfully, intrigued yet again by the bitter, ocean-salt tang of himself, wondering what Snape might taste like and if he'd enjoy Harry's flavour. He rinsed his hands and dried them, then did his business and tucked himself away, washed his hands a second time and took one last look around the room. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink, cheeks flushed and eyes fever-bright, bottom lip swollen where he'd bitten it and, really, looking quite a bit like he'd just tossed off in Snape's loo.

Harry shrugged and opened the door. There was no help for it, and Snape would undoubtedly find out during their next Occlumency lesson anyway. The man had developed a knack for seeing what Harry least wanted revealed, which had the twofold effect of making Harry work harder to hide it, but also making him more generally cavalier about what secrets Snape knew. The glimpses he'd got of Snape's past were enough to make Harry feel that there was little in Harry's life that could possibly shock the man, these days.

The bedroom smelled faintly of lavender and vetiver, as well as a few of the potions from the bathroom, and Harry was both glad and disappointed that he'd left the door open and couldn't indulge in a bit more snooping and possible touching of things he shouldn't. He was well aware he'd spent an inordinate amount of time in the loo, and he tried to quell his blush as he walked out into the room, gait made casual simply by being completely free of an erection for the first time that evening.

Snape was still over by the fire, arguing with the portrait in low tones. Harry cleared his throat gently, and they both turned to look at him, two sets of disconcerting black eyes sweeping over his form and making him feel suddenly young and obvious. "My ancestor has requested the courtesy of an introduction," said Snape with a familiar sneer.

"Er, all right," said Harry, walking back over to the fire. "Hullo, sir, I'm Harry Potter," said Harry with false brightness once he got over there. He tried to keep the furtive guilt out of his tone and posture, but Snape still shot him a curious look.

"I am one of Severus' ancestors, Austereus Snape. I was the original owner of the chess set you are losing so spectacularly with, my boy," said the portrait, puffing himself up grandly.

Harry had no idea what to say next, so he turned towards Snape and mouthed, "What now?"

Snape leaned in until his breath ghosted over Harry's ear and murmured, "Your lips smell like come."

Harry bit the bottom one to keep from moaning. Snape pulled back, his expression smug and eyes heated. "Well, we should get back our game?" said Harry, voice squeaking slightly on the last word.

"Yes, that would be wise. Never fear, my boy, I shall watch over to be sure that my many-greats-grandson does nothing untoward."

Harry couldn't resist baiting the stuffy portrait. "What makes you think I'd mind if he did?" he asked, putting on his best innocent face.

Austereus looked affronted, and went back to sulking. Harry stifled a laugh as he followed Snape over to their chairs. Snape summoned the teapot, which never seemed to empty or cool, and repeated his ritual of pouring their tea, first banishing the cold remains from their cups. "I wasn't aware you were quite that flexible, Harry," he said softly, his voice full of strange mischief, although his eyes never left the table.

"I licked it off my hand," Harry muttered, pretending deep interest in a lemon biscuit, cheeks burning.

"Aah," said Snape, sending the extra tea things back to their tray and proffering Harry his cup. Harry stuffed the biscuit in his mouth, and took the cup, nearly choking when Snape added, "A pity."

He took a gulp of tea to clear out his throat, glaring until he couldn't help but grin. Snape merely raised an eyebrow and sipped his tea with a small, self-satisfied smile.

"I believe it's your move, Severus," said Harry, gesturing towards the board and attempting quite vainly to banish these new ideas from his head. Snape had thought he'd, what, sucked himself off? Was that even physically possible? Harry was pretty limber, maybe he'd give it a try over the summer. He licked his lips again, tasting his own bitterness beneath the lemon and sugar, cream and tea. He wondered if Snape craved that flavour the same way he wanted to taste Snape's mouth, his cock.

Snape uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, examining the board once more. "You do present an interesting challenge, Harry, despite your initial poor showing."

Harry had the distinct feeling they were still carrying on two conversations at once. He also had the intolerable urge to slip off his shoes and play footsie with Snape, so he concentrated as best he could on the verbal flirting instead. "I guess I've just had to prevail against poor odds more than I've been taught to conserve my resources." Which was actually not true after a lifetime of hoarding precious commodities like food, freedom and time to himself.

"Having seen glimpses of your youth, I tend to doubt that highly," said Snape, calling him on the lie. "However, I can see how one would quickly lose the habit amongst the relative abundance here at Hogwarts."

Harry blushed and bit his lip, an image of Snape's arse flashing through his mind for no apparent reason. "Aah, but the best of the bounty is still forbidden," said Harry, running an absent finger over his now-tender mouth.

Snape's eyes were now riveted on Harry rather than the board, and he leaned back, steepling his fingers. Harry gasped as toes brushed along his shin when Snape crossed his legs, and they both blushed. "Sometimes that which is forbidden calls to us all the more sweetly," said Snape, the rough edge to his voice like the bitter bite of really fine, dark chocolate. Harry wanted to feel Snape melting on his tongue, and he spared a moment to wonder how he'd endure an entire year of these lessons.

Harry stared down at his plate, grabbing something at random and wracking his brain for a reply. He nibbled on his miniature fruit tart, then smiled as he got an idea. "A peach plucked too soon will only sour the stomach."

Snape's smile grew calculating, and he made his move before answering, "And yet one left too long will only spoil."

"You're not that old," said Harry, giving up flowery language for bluntness.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Old enough to have gone to school with your parents."

"You're the one that said these things are usually one younger man and an older one to guide him," Harry pointed out, setting the tart down. He picked off one glazed raspberry and stared at it, waiting for Snape's answer.

Snape was silent, staring off into the middle distance, and Harry licked absently at the sweet glaze on the berry before popping it into his mouth, crushing the tart fruit against his lips and then sweeping them clean with his tongue. He was working on getting the last of the sticky stuff off his fingers when he felt the weight of Snape's gaze, and looked up to see an intent hunger burning in the black depths of his eyes.

Harry froze, index finger still held between pursed lips, feeling a bit like a mouse under the gaze of a large black cat. Toes slid over his ankle with a firm pressure this time, then slid up under his jeans to caress his leg above the sock. Harry slid the finger out of his mouth with a wet pop and gasped, plunging straight into the fires of arousal. He went from soft to hard between the heartbeats he could feel in his throat. This was desire, the feral look in Snape's eyes what it did to Harry's body.

Harry clutched the armrests, spreading his legs reflexively as the toes slid upward, unable to contain a whimper when they left him entirely. Snape stood, leaning over the chessboard, his gaze too intent to hold. Instead, Harry's eyes slid down Snape's body to where the front of those grey trousers strained to hold him in. "Usually, such guidance also comes with a price, Harry," rasped Snape warningly.

Harry leaned in until their faces were mere inches apart. "And what price would you exact, Severus?"

Snape growled in his throat and lunged, closing that small gap and ravaging Harry's mouth. This was nothing like the kisses he'd shared with Cho, all soggy and tentative. This was heat and lemons, tea and Snape, this was being claimed, devoured, owned. Harry thought he might come again just from this, the play of lips and tongue, the bite of teeth and rush of breath. A whimper found its way between their mouths and out into the air, and Snape froze, eyes going wide.

Snape pulled away and sat with slow precision, his eyes wide and almost panicked. "You should go," he choked out, raising shaking fingers to press against his reddened lips.

Harry sat back, willing his body to stop shaking. "You're going to break me," he murmured around the pulse in his throat and the lingering flavour of lemons in his mouth.

"No more than you have destroyed me," said Snape, falling back into what Harry hoped was still just metaphor. He shook himself once and looked up at Harry, who felt wild and unkempt beneath that piercing gaze. "I have kissed a student," he added wonderingly.

"I promise not to tell?" said Harry, clasping his shaking hands in his lap. "It was... we can consider it a fond farewell," he added, voice strengthening so he sounded almost confident.

Snape slumped in his chair, expression crumpling to weariness and guilt. "Indeed, Harry. But I believe it is still time for you to go, before any further indiscretions are committed."

"Yeah, you're probably right. You'd've won at chess anyway," said Harry, gathering his strength, and the courage to stand with his erection pressing against the front of his jeans. "But I'll see you in a few weeks, right?"

Snape nodded. "I will endeavor to better restrain myself next time, although I would ask that you refrain from..."

"Tossing off in your loo and then sucking my fingers?" said Harry flippantly, not quite meeting Snape's eyes.

"Indeed."

Harry could've sworn he heard a bit of the earlier humour in that last word, and he felt a lot better as he finally stood. "Thanks for everything, Severus."

"You are, for the most part, welcome. Farewell, Harry," said Snape tiredly. He was hiding in the shadows of his chair, and Harry left quietly, not wanting to intrude.

"Goodbye," he said quietly, just before closing the door. If there had been a response, Harry hadn't heard it. He rushed on out, eager to reach the prefect's bathroom and have a more leisurely wank, fueled by the naked desire in Snape's eyes and the persistent tang of lemons and come on his own lips.


	4. A Moment of Privacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus enjoys a moment alone.

Snape sagged in the chair, heart beating painfully fast in a chest tight with emotion. Guilt rode him, reining in the wild desire that had overwhelmed them both for those few delicious moments. Underneath lurked the gentle, damning affection he'd felt for the boy for years, despite Harry's infuriating disregard for rules and authority. Snape had managed to stay blissfully unaware of Harry's developing good looks right up until he'd felt that small, lean body pressed up against his own, and of course the hard brand of Harry's cock pressing into his hip.

Snape groaned at the memory. He'd had no idea that the Boy Who Lived would once again go against expectations and turn out homosexual. Snape had actually been glad that there hadn't been any new pupils for this particular set of lessons since the twins left. His self-control could only take so many empty flirtations, and he hadn't felt the touch of another's willing hands in far too long.

"Got yourself in quite a bind, haven't you, my boy?" said the infuriatingly smug painting. "I told you these lessons of yours would come back to bite you in the arse one day!"

"You also agreed that my reasons for offering them are sound and honorable. How was I to know he'd listen to his prick instead of six years of prejudice?" Snape replied wearily. He was used to Austereus' heckling, in fact he found it somewhat comforting most days, but this was a touchy subject, to say the least.

Austereus harrumphed, but fell silent, his usual tactic when he had no answer for Snape's often rhetorical questions. Snape waved his wand at the chess set, watching absently as the pieces put themselves away. He left the rest for the house elves -- they had an uneasy truce: since he wouldn't let them into his potions laboratory, he wasn't allowed to clean up anything in his private quarters. He'd only put the bathroom to rights because the boy was coming over, and the elves wouldn't have had time.

He was fairly sure he'd hear a complaint in the morning anyway. He sighed and stood, intent on disappearing into his bedroom before Austereus could resume his harassment. He walked uncomfortably, back held stiff to disguise the similar state of his prick, and sagged with relief once the heavy door was between himself and the portrait. Normally he enjoyed the small easing of his lonely life it gave, having someone to chat with during the long evenings, but at times it was inconvenient, a bit like having a houseguest you couldn't properly be rid of.

Snape leaned against the door, letting his head rest against the dark wood, not bothering with the lights just yet. He let a hand trail down the front of his pants, let his mind finally dwell on the image of Harry innocently consuming the fortunate raspberry, his pink tongue lapping up the sticky fluid, its juices staining his agile mouth, his fingers disappearing between reddened lips. He'd looked so innocent when he'd finally noticed Snape watching him, one finger still stuck in his mouth and green eyes wide with surprise.

Snape could still have held himself in check and stuck to another mostly-accidental caress had those eyes not darkened with desire at the first brush of Snape's toes. He had no idea what prompted the boy to taunt him into making the first move, but he knew deep down he'd taken exactly as much advantage as he felt he could get away with, both in his own conscience and Harry's naive willingness. Offered a banquet, he'd done well to take only a taste.

It still lingered on his tongue, a faint bitterness mingled with the more mundane flavours of tea and biscuits and fruit, the hint of brine that was most likely more than half imagination at that point. He longed to have it unadulterated, to lick and suck until he was rewarded with a flood straight from the source, as it were. He moaned softly at the image, and again at the knowledge that Harry had gone and had one off the wrist just a few feet and one closed door away from where he'd been blithely arguing with some long-dead portrait.

He wished, now, that he'd paid more attention to the boy's absence. He might've heard a telltale moan, and gone to investigate. Snape stopped that line of thought long enough to strip, leaving his clothing in a trail from door to bed. He climbed the two short steps, setting his wand on the nightstand, and slid between the crisp, cool sheets. He mentally checked his wards, finding everything secure, and then finally let his hands and mind wander.

Had he heard Harry moaning, he might have gone to check on the boy. He'd have closed the bedroom door in case Harry was in some distress, not wanting to shock or endanger Austereus. The loo door would've been slightly ajar, not having latched properly when Harry went in, and Snape would have easily pushed it open. Harry would've been there, flushed and panting, perhaps on his knees on the cold tiles, trousers pooling around him, cock rampant in his fist.

Snape wrapped his own agile fingers around his aching prick, unwilling to wait for a more leisurely exploration. He stroked roughly, frantically, deliberately echoing the motions of Harry's imaginary hand in his little mental play. Harry would be too intent, at first, on what he was doing, eyes closed and lower lip caught between even white teeth. He wouldn't notice until Snape cleared his throat, then those green eyes would fly open, wide and dark and shocked as they'd been over the chessboard.

Snape was already close, and he slid two fingers into his mouth, wetting them briefly before spreading his legs and trailing them down between. He didn't often indulge in this particular activity outside of the bath, but the tingle of Harry's lips on his own demanded no less. He cried out softly as the fingers slipped inside his opening, and his other hand moved faster, stroking him desperately towards release.

In his mind, Harry's hand would have stilled, his mouth moving but no words emerging. Snape would lean against the doorjamb and cross his arms negligently, his own cock pressing obviously against the front of trousers he could admit only to himself had been chosen for just that effect. "Do you require assistance, Harry?" he would say, trying to sound flippant but unable to keep the rising desire out of his voice.

Harry would nod, shocked, and let his hands fall away, giving Snape his first unobstructed view of the boy's prick. It would be thick and possibly a bit short, the foreskin pulled back from a head already slick and shining. "What do you want, Harry?" he would ask, standing up and slinking slowly towards his kneeling student.

Harry's eyes would be riveted on Snape's trousers, and the narrow length pressed against them. Snape allowed his hand to tighten around that length, aware as only men of certain predilections can be that he was quite long as these things go, but barely average in girth, and imagined Harry as his opposite in this as so many other things. Snape was close, and he drove his fingers deep, seeking that spot inside himself and letting his hands and imagination speed him towards completion.

Harry would rub his face against Snape's prick like a cat, then open Snape's trousers without a single word. He would look up with those young eyes asking for permission even as his tongue flicked out for his first taste of his teacher. Snape would nod, unwilling to trust his voice, and then moan as the untutored mouth took him in, scraping ungently with his teeth. Snape moaned in real life, a hoarse echo of his mental self, and felt the building tension snap, breaking him apart.

He let the fantasy spin away in the whirlwind of his very real climax, spine arching off the bed as he spent onto his stomach. He let his fingers slip out of his body, sliding the other hand through the hot seed and, in a conscious echo of Harry's earlier admission, licked his hand clean of the bitter spunk. He lay there for a few long moments, enjoying the post-orgasmic lassitude. He would get himself up and dressed for bed in a few minutes, but for now he wanted to drift on the far side of pleasure.

He was, after all, far too familiar with the feeling of having just tossed off to images of a student for any sort of real guilt. He'd save that for later, when he had to decide whether to admit the indiscretion of their single kiss to Dumbledore, or to just assume the meddlesome old man already knew and let it remain, as so many things, unspoken between them. He sat up, making a face. Nothing like thoughts of Albus to ruin a good afterglow, he thought wryly, making his way into the bathroom to get properly ready for bed.


	5. An Entertaining Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and Harry enlist the twins' aid.

Harry fidgeted nervously. He'd spent a bare two weeks at the Dursleys this year, just enough to really bring home to him all the reasons why he loathed them quite as much as he did, and now he was eagerly awaiting his escort back to the dubious comfort of 12 Grimmauld Place. Just before he'd left Hogwarts, Dumbledore had asked Harry up to his office for tea. Harry'd had a moment of blind panic when he saw Snape sitting in the other squashy armchair, before the professor had given him a reassuringly tiny ghost of a smile.

Dumbledore had then proceeded to outline why both of them losing their summer vacations would benefit all of mankind, during which Harry had eaten two tarts and exchanged numerous snide glances with Snape. Afterwards, Snape had explained that Harry was to help him keep the Headquarters for the Order, giving Lupin a much-needed break of his own, and would be sitting a small but significant schedule of classes with Snape, including the now-Headmaster-approved etiquette lessons.

At the moment, he was in his bed at 4 Privet Drive, watching the clock desperately and waiting for Snape to show up and remove him from this horrid little house forever. It had been decided that, for expediency's sake, Snape would Apparate them both to Diagon Alley, where they would pick up some supplies and then make their way to Headquarters through Muggle London. Harry was rather looking forward to the whole adventure, especially the bits where he got to snuggle into Snape's arms again to Apparate, and see Snape dressed in Muggle clothing on the Underground.

Too bad there was no real chance that Snape would go barefoot again. Harry rather treasured the memory of those agile toes against his skin, and had become more than a little obsessed with them over the course of the last two weeks. Of course, it didn't hurt that the only school book he'd kept out from his trunk, and consequently not had confiscated the moment he got to the Dursleys, was the little green one Snape had given him. It had turned out to be a very dry and nearly incomprehensible text on lubrication charms, proper preparation, and the surprisingly varied and nasty consequences of Doing It Wrong.

He'd got a lot more mileage out of Snape's feet than he had from the book, where it counted, at any rate. He'd also nearly managed to get his whole cockhead in his mouth, which wasn't nearly as fun as it sounded but might become so once he'd got himself properly limber. Still, he'd carefully hidden the book in his robes, intending to make sure Snape knew he was now quite read up on the four types of sodomy and the location of his prostate.

That last had also been a valuable tidbit, providing quite an interesting couple of baths, but he'd avoided it since discovering he had an alarming tendency to cry out when he nudged at it a little too enthusiastically. He had no desire whatsoever to explain to Aunt Petunia that he was perfectly fine and had only been having a nice wank while imagining being buggered by his Potions professor. He'd save that for his stay at Headquarters with Snape, who at least would sympathize, and possibly teach him a soundproofing spell.

As if the thought had conjured the man, Snape appeared at the foot of Harry's bed with the sharp crack of Apparition. "Hullo, Professor," said Harry casually, as if he hadn't just been working himself up over buggery. "I've read your book, thank you," he added when Snape merely nodded in response, standing and holding out the still-pristine green volume.

"I trust you found it educational?" said Snape, tucking the book in his robes and eyeing the room with distaste.

Harry managed just barely not to cringe, instead saying, "I've got my trunk and owl cage all ready to go." He pointed unnecessarily to the two objects in question; Hedwig had gone out yesterday to deliver letters to Ron, Hermione, Fred and George, and would look for him at Headquarters when she was done.

"So I see. Can you shrink them competently, or shall I?" said Snape, in what Harry private thought of as his Professor Voice: cold, cruel, and dripping with contempt.

"Can't. I'm underage, remember? And summer lessons don't officially start until Monday." He'd been given special dispensation to do magic during lessons, at least until his birthday, when he'd be of age and allowed to do any magic he wanted. Harry grimaced at the memory of his trial after the Dementor attack two summers back -- avoiding a repeat of that was worth looking a bit stupid in front of Snape.

Snape just nodded and performed the simple charm. Harry's possessions dwindled down to toy-sized, and Snape pocketed them before turning back to Harry. Harry flinched slightly under that uncompromising gaze; he hadn't had Potions on his last day of classes, and he wasn't prepared to see his dour Professor Snape instead of his clever, witty friend Severus. "Th-the Dursleys know I'm scheduled to leave now. I'm sure they're just waiting for the voices to quiet so they can sterilise the room," he stammered, suddenly feeling eleven years old and in trouble again.

Snape's features softened. "Come here, Harry," he said, his voice losing its edge as he held out a hand. "I find it takes me a moment or two to remember that I am no longer required to treat you as an errant child."

Harry grinned and stepped forward, ignoring the hand in favor of tucking himself carefully under Snape's arm, resting a hand on Snape's narrow hip. "Ready, sir."

Snape smirked, for once with real humour, and rested his arm across Harry's shoulder. "All right, hold tight. We'll appear in a room at the Leaky Cauldron, which we will also be sharing for the night. There are," he added, briefly resuming his Professor Snape scowl, "separate beds."

Harry grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it any other way, Professor."

Snape's arm tightened around his shoulders, and he felt the same wrenching dislocation that had accompanied his first experience with Apparition. He blinked away a sudden dryness in his eyes, and found them in a small, neat room with two narrow twin beds, separated by a single wide nightstand. "In private, you may call me Severus," said Snape, giving Harry's shoulder a final brief squeeze before stepping free of his embrace.

Harry's smile this time might have eclipsed the sun. Snape studiously ignored it, maintaining a stoic dignity as he restored Harry's things while Harry poked and prodded his way around the little room. There was a tiny private loo complete with three familiar-smelling bottles from Snape's bathroom, and Harry wished he'd been quite brave enough to smell Snape during their brief embrace. He had noticed that Snape's hair didn't have its customary lank greasiness to it, and wondered if it was the constant work with potions that caused the unfortunate hygiene problem.

"We have much to accomplish today, if you're quite through snooping around in my possessions?" called Snape.

Harry blushed and emerged, deciding to test out the flirtation thing again by saying, "Just wanted to know what your hair potion smelled like, sir, as I'm not allowed to smell your hair."

"Indeed, you are not," Snape replied, straightening his already immaculate robes. "I assume you also have some personal errands you would like to run during your single day of freedom?"

Harry stopped, stunned. He was going into Diagon Alley, not just on a quick trip for school supplies, but for a whole day, with Snape. Just two weeks ago, Harry would have considered this a sentence in Hell, but now it was an unexpected treat, even if he would be required to call him Professor while they were out in public. "I'd like to buy some clothes that fit, and..."

Harry paused. He knew he had a small fortune in his vault, but he had an idea that it was just that -- a _small_ fortune. Not enough to live on forever unless he really scrimped, he thought, but honestly had no idea. He just wasn't familiar enough with what things cost in the Wizarding world to judge. "Er, would you visit my vault with me? I'll need money, and I'd like... I mean, if you're willing, I'd like a bit of advice."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain that I am the one you wish to consult for financial advice?"

Harry shrugged, feeling strangely vulnerable. "It's not like I've got anyone else to ask, is it?"

Snape looked thoughtful. "I will do this with you, but I will also ask you to allow me to arrange for certain members of the Order to speak with you over the course of the summer." His expression shuttered and he looked away as he continued haltingly, "I... have too much of a... personal interest in your future... decisions, to be comfortable as your sole counsel."

Harry moved forward, laying a hand on Snape's arm. He'd resumed his stern teacher pose, spine straight and hands behind his back, one scowl away from the man Harry had spent six years learning not to hate. Harry had no idea what he should say to that revealing statement, but then brilliant inspiration struck. "Well, it's a good thing I happen to have business with two successful young Wizarding entrepreneurs, now, isn't it?"

Harry waited, a bit breathless, for Snape to realize to whom he was referring. Snape started to scowl, and then, against all expectation, he smiled instead, an expression which never failed to transform his face completely, if only by its rarity. "I believe a visit to the brothers Weasley is in order, then."

"Ace!" said Harry enthusiastically. "Right. So, Weasleys first, then Gringott's, then clothes. Then you can drag me to whatever boring shops you'd like."

"I believe that it is also time for you to obtain permanent possession of this," said Snape, holding out a familiar small gold key. Harry took it reverently -- Dumbledore had always delivered Harry's vault key into the custody of whichever adult was shepherding Harry that year, first Hagrid and then Molly Weasley. This was the first time he'd ever actually held in his own hand the key to his parents' legacy, for whatever it was worth.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry quietly, carefully pocketing the treasure.

Snape gave Harry a penetrating look before turning and sweeping towards the door, quite a feat in a room this small. Harry followed obediently, waiting until they were in the hallway to say, "I appreciate everything you're doing for me, Professor, but most of all I'm glad you decided to be my friend."

Snape paused long enough for Harry to catch up and said, "You are quite welcome," before leading him down the stairs, through the magical gateway and out into the midmorning bustle of Diagon Alley.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was in a tiny storefront squeezed between a stationer's and a supplier of bulk potions ingredients. The sign outside kept changing typefaces, and occasionally a small display of fireworks would go off around it, drawing the attention of passersby. The shop itself was long and narrow, shelves crammed with strange objects in bins, a handwritten placard describing the effects of each trick or toy attached to the shelf in front of it. There was a glass case in back next to the register, full of strange food items like Canary Creams and Skiving Snackboxes.

Fred and George waved enthusiastically when they spotted Harry and Snape, and they made their way through the crowded little shop. Fred beckoned them into the back of the shop, saying brightly, "Come on, have a spot of tea. George and I can trade off chatting and working for a bit."

"It's really busy!" said Harry happily, overjoyed at the smiling faces and clink of money being handed over.

"Best investment you never made, eh?" said George, grabbing Harry for a quick hug as he passed.

Harry tried not to be startled by the new familiarity, instead relaxing into the embrace and whispering, "Got my owl, then?"

"And we'd be glad to help you out, however you'd like," he said quietly, breaking away to give a harried mother her change and packages. "Especially with practical demonstrations," he added, grinning mischievously.

Harry blushed. "I'd love that, but you'll have to come to Headquarters. I'm back in protective custody after today."

George's grin grew into a leer and he said softly, "Oh, I know you'd love it, wherever we do it. We'll make sure of that."

"Flirt," said Harry fondly, glancing at the crowd before pressing a shy kiss to George's cheek.

George looked stunned for a moment, hand half-raised to the spot where Harry's lips had just brushed, then he grinned and winked. "Off with you, now, before Fred manages to offend Snape."

Harry started to move away, but a thought struck him, and he turned back. "Er, he wasn't, y'know."

"Wasn't what?" asked George, carefully boxing Canary Creams for an excitable young man.

"Wasn't offended. He just... didn't think it was appropriate, I think," said Harry. "I could tell, because he blushed when he mentioned it."

George turned back, startled for the second time in as many minutes. His grin was a bit shakier this time as he said, "Imp. Watch yourself, or we'll steal him away from you."

It was Harry's turn to be surprised. He thought about the recent change in his relationship with Snape, and the way it must look from the outside. "That obvious, am I?" he said, chagrined.

"Only to those who know you," said George, winking and turning back to accept a pile of silver Sickles for the pastries. "Plus, your letter practically screamed it between the lines."

Harry blushed, and practiced the better part of valor by slipping through the door into the cluttered back room. It was piled high with boxes and bags, jars and bottles, all the backstock and ingredients needed for running a joke shop, at least in the Wizarding world. There was a work bench over to one side, and on the other a small table with four rickety chairs, on which Fred was now serving the tea.

Fred and Snape were, amazingly enough, talking quite congenially, and didn't seem to notice Harry's arrival. Harry let the door close out the noises of the shop behind him and was surprised to hear Snape say, "I must advise you that if you harm Harry in any manner..."

"Untraceable poisons, unending wrath, got it," said Fred, unconcerned. "Look, it's so obvious he's gone for you, anyway, I doubt we could do much to break his heart. That'll be your job."

Snape blushed slightly, and looked down at his steaming cup. "I do not believe I will be able to maintain as much fortitude with Harry as I exercised in regards to your own invitation."

Harry bit his lip to keep from intruding as Fred said quietly, "That offer's still open, you know, even if it's just until you can have who you really want." Fred grinned and winked, "After all, it's not like we'll be heartbroken when you drop us for Harry; we've already got the love of our lives."

Harry had suspected, but still found it shocking to see Fred admit to Snape of all people that he and George were lovers. "I was mortified when I caught the two of you _in flagrante delicto_ ," said Snape softly. "But moreso at my own reaction than the relationship between the two of you. Seeing you like that, it seemed so perfectly right, in a way nothing in my life has ever been."

"Until now," said Fred quietly, and Harry felt suddenly ashamed that he'd eavesdropped for so long.

"I won't mind if you take up with them, you know," said Harry, walking forward. He blushed at their stunned looks and mumbled, "Sorry, I heard you when I came in, but I didn't want to interrupt..."

"It's all right, Harry," said Fred, shooting Snape a look that said that it had better be. "Probably better you found out that way. You really don't mind? 'Cos me an' George have been after his tail for ages."

"I hardly think that a single proposition--" began Snape sternly.

"That you noticed," said Fred exasperatedly. "I mean, honestly, d'you think you'd've ever caught us shagging if we hadn't planned it?"

Harry laughed, and he was surprised when Snape said only, "I had wondered," before dissolving into his own quiet, shaking snickers. It seemed like something of a release for the professor, and Harry ventured a hand on the shuddering back. Snape took a deep breath and straightened, eyes bright and strange. "I..."

Whatever he might have said was lost, as George poked his head in back and said, "Fred, Mrs. Estwhirle is here for that special fireworks order, where'd you leave it?"

"I think... Bugger. I'll come and look, you talk to Snape and Harry." Fred rubbed his cheek affectionately against his twin's as they passed, and he added quietly, "I think Snape's going to take up with us, luv."

George glanced over to where Harry still had one arm self-consciously around Snape's back, and said, "Harry, too."

"Brilliant!" said Fred, disappearing out into the noisy shop.

"So, you're both up for a bit of double trouble, eh?" said George lightly, commandeering Fred's seat and his tea. He let his face go serious for a moment and then added, "We've only ever let one other person in our bed, and no one's to know we're together like that, got it? Severus, you at least are well aware of what would happen if it got out."

"I am sure that my reputation could not possibly get worse, but I stand by my opinion that the two of you do not deserve to be ostracised for being wise enough to recognise love when it happened," said Snape formally.

Harry grinned, "And Ron would never, ever forgive me for shagging his brothers," he said, "So your secret's safe with me."

George relaxed into his seat and gestured towards the tea that Snape and Harry were pointedly not drinking. "Don't you trust us?" he said innocently.

"I may trust you to teach me to snog, but I will never, ever trust food from you again," said Harry pointedly. "Once a canary is once too many."

"Indeed," said Snape sternly, crossing his arms over his chest. The effect was somewhat ruined by the smile tugging at his thin lips, but Harry was willing to let it go.

"Oh!" said Harry, remembering the other purpose for their visit. "I know you're busy, but I've got a favor to ask."

"Anything for you, my sweet little cherry," said George with an exaggerated leer, which Harry pointedly ignored.

"You know I'm going to be out of school in a year, and... well, I have no idea what I'll be doing with my life, and I have this vault full of gold, but I really don't know how much or what that's worth in terms of living on my own. So I want your advice, because Severus doesn't want to unduly influence me into being his boy toy or some other ridiculously noble thing." Harry winked at Snape when he said it, half-expecting to be taken to task for using his first name in front of someone else.

"I do not believe it is ever wise to rely solely on the advice of only one other person in such important matters," said Snape, spinning his teacup idly.

"He's right, you know. And if anyone knows how to squeeze blood from a Knut, it's a Weasley," said George. "So, you don't have any idea what you'll be doing once you get out?"

"Well, presumably I'll have to murder Voldemort in there somewhere," said Harry, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his tone, "but aside from that, not really. I thought I wanted to be an Auror, but I haven't got the proper classes, and I'm getting rather tired of fearing for my life."

"The first wise words I've heard you utter," said Snape.

Harry stuck his tongue out at him. Snape raised a single eyebrow and then went back to fidgeting with his tea. "Anyway, I'm going to talk to anyone I can this summer, of course, but I wanted to know where I stood first, as far as money goes. And I know you two can handle money, I mean, just look at this place!"

George grinned and stood, finishing off his tea. "I suppose Fred and I could be persuaded to take an afternoon off. Why don't you two do some of your errands and then come back for us at lunch time?"

"Will you help me pick out some clothes, too?" asked Harry excitedly, eyeing George's form-fitting trousers with interest. The stocky boy had grown into a big man, his muscles filling out until he seemed like a solid wall of red hair and smiles, and Harry got a sudden thrill at thinking what it might be like to lose himself in that strong embrace.

"Can I come snog you in the changing rooms?" said Fred, head peeking through the door. "If we're going to clear out this crowd before lunch, you'd better get out here."

George leaned over and kissed Snape lightly on the lips, causing Snape to blink in a stunned manner for a few moments, and Harry to adjust his trousers. When George came his way, Harry stood somewhat abruptly, presenting his face for a kiss of his own. "Eager little thing, aren't you?" said George with a smile.

"Learning is never wasted," said Harry solemnly just before George's mouth descended. George's kiss was nothing at all like Snape's, except of course for the effect it had on Harry's prick. It was soft at first, and a bit rough where George's lips were chapped, until his tongue swept over Harry's lips. Harry gasped, and the tongue took advantage to dip inside just enough to taste, mouths pressing close for one long moment before pulling away. A final soft peck like the dot at the end of an exclamation point, and he straightened and stepped back.

"Brilliant," breathed Harry, a smile breaking over his face. He took a quick glance at Snape, to see the effect this display had, and was gratified to see an expression of stunned lust on the usually scowling features.

"You're a natural. Fred, come over here and say goodbye properly, I'll run the counter and then we'll get the shop settled for our outing." He walked over to the door, trading places and heated glances with his twin before turning back to Snape and Harry. "Lunch at noon?"

"That will be acceptable," said Snape, as Fred moved into the room with a predatory air.

He walked up to Harry first, moving close until their bodies brushed. "All right, Harry?" he asked softly as he caught Harry up in one strong arm, the other hand coming up to cup his cheek gently.

Harry nodded, still a bit stunned from George's kiss, and let his eyes flutter closed as Fred leaned down. He twined his arms about Fred's waist as soft lips found his own. Fred's mouth was not at all rough, but his kiss was, a demanding press of hungry lips and teeth. He didn't wait for Harry to open his mouth in invitation, but instead nibbled until Harry gave way, then plunged his tongue inside. Harry did his best to reciprocate, but he was swept along by the sheer intensity of the kiss.

Harry was gasping and embarrassingly close to coming when Fred let him go, his blood rushing in his ears. He sat back down abruptly, eyes flicking back and forth from Fred's smugly feral expression to Snape's look of utter entrancement. "And now for your goodbye kiss, Professor," said Fred, stalking around the table like a tiger on the prowl.

Fred drew Snape out of his chair, ending up just a bare inch shorter than the professor at his full height. "And to make sure you remember us," he said softly, then struck like a snake. His lips met Snape's with an almost punishing force for a kiss that looked as hot from the outside as Harry's had been from the inside.

When they broke apart, they were both panting, and Harry could see the press of a rather prominent erection against the front of Fred's trousers. Harry was suddenly desperate for a moment alone. "I, er, loo?" he stammered, stumbling to his feet.

"Upstairs, first door on the left," said Fred with a knowing smirk. "There's lotion in the cupboard."

"Right. Don't think... I'll be quick," said Harry, aroused past embarrassment by the sight and feel of the twins and their ready passion, and the answering desire it had called to Snape's austere features.

He practically ran up the stairs, slamming the door behind him and taking out his aching prick. Three long strokes and he was done, images swimming behind his eyes of Fred and Snape and George, lips still tingling from the sweet, tea-flavored kisses. In a sudden fit of mischief, he licked his hands clean of spunk before washing up, knowing that Snape would notice. Wondering, as he left the bathroom in a more dignified manner than he'd entered, if he'd comment in front of the twins.

Fred's eyes were sparkling with humour as Harry emerged, and he said, "That _was_ quick. Give us a kiss, and I'll be off, pet."

Harry gave him a quick but thorough kiss, noting the surprise on Fred's features as the change in flavours registered. Evidently, Snape also noted it, as he said, "He licks it off his hand."

"But I've been working on my flexibility," Harry retorted, getting a heated look from both men.

"I believe it is time we were going, before we become further... distracted," said Snape evenly, the fire in his eyes visibly cooling as he composed himself. The three of them made their way back out front, and he turned to both twins, saying, "I look forward to renewing our acquaintance."

"Indeed," said George with a wink, in obvious imitation. Fred sidled up to his brother and whispered something in his ear that made George's eyes go wide. "Really?"

Harry resisted the urge to give him another quick peck on the cheek, not wanting to cause a scene, but he did make it a point to turn back and deliberately lick the tip of his finger on the way out. Fred and George both laughed and waved, and he and Snape exited back into the bright midmorning sunlight.

Snape waited until they were lost in the crowds before leaning down to murmur to Harry, "That was..."

"Enlightening?" said Harry impishly, grinning. "Encouraging? Intriguing? Bloody brilliant?"

"Incendiary," said Snape, amused.

"That, too," said Harry easily. "So, where to now?"

"If you do not mind the brief loan, I believe it would be best to get your school things now, and settle accounts after our trip to Gringott's. This way we can spend the entire afternoon clothing you and... enjoying the charms of Messrs Weasley." Snape was back to his more formal speech and bearing, but the ever-present edge of contempt was missing from his voice.

"Yes, Professor," said Harry sweetly as they went into Flourish & Blotts. He peered around himself curiously, then realized something important. "I haven't got my letter yet, or will we come back for those books?"

"We will have to return at some point nearer the start of term. Not all the faculty have chosen their texts. We are here for your summer books only, and any personal reading material you might desire."

"If you get the class books, I can grab a few things, and then we'll be faster," said Harry, glancing around the crowded shop nervously. "Got any recommendations?"

"I would like for you to choose two or three blank books to use as journals, one for Occlumency and one for your etiquette lessons at the very minimum." Snape was almost back to his Professor Voice, and Harry had to repress the urge to do something untoward to break his composure. "Otherwise, I doubt we have similar tastes in leisure reading."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that. "You're probably right. Meet you at the front counter?" said Harry, eager to get done and get on to the next thing.

"Quite," said Snape, swooping off towards the books. Harry went and fiddled around with the magazines, deciding on a copy of Quidditch Quarterly before finding himself half a dozen assorted small journals in various colours and fabrics. Two of them were completely blank, and he thought he might use them to sketch in if he found the time. He was a terrible artist, but he enjoyed messing about with it all the same.

Snape's imposing figure was already looking impatient at the front counter when Harry got there, and Harry obediently joined him, adding his finds to the small pile of books. Snape flipped through one of the blank journals, nodded approvingly, and then paid for the whole thing, all without changing his blank, stoic expression. There was something guarded about him now, and Harry wondered who he'd met up with in amongst the long shelves.

They left the shop quickly, Snape hurrying ahead with long, ground-eating strides that forced Harry to trot to catch up. "Slow down!" said Harry exasperatedly, "Don't you know that poor nutrition early in life has stunted my growth?"

"And here I thought it was poor genetics, Potter," Snape snapped, his Teacher Voice back in all its biting glory.

Harry stopped short, stunned. "Oi, that's just not sporting!"

Snape turned slowly on Harry, face a mask of contempt and anger. "And what, may I ask, makes you think that life will ever be sporting, outside of that foolish game you waste your time with, Mr. Potter?"

Harry was surprised at how much more the sarcasm hurt after all the progress he thought they'd made in the past few weeks. He absently rubbed one hand over the new hollow place beneath his breastbone and hissed, "Sorry, _Professor_." He pushed past Snape and walked blindly on, heedless of the fact that he had no actual idea of their intended destination.

There was a strange moment of silence before the noise of the crowd filled up his ears with static, and then distantly he heard, "Potter, wait!"

"What is it, Professor? Got another insult you'd like to cast at my dead loved ones?" said Harry viciously.

"Pot-- Harry," Snape's voice was tight and nearly whispered through his teeth. "The remaining free Malfoys were quite curious to know what I was doing escorting the Boy Who Lived around Diagon Alley. It rather threw me off balance. I apologize for taking it out on you, but we need to get to our next destination and off the street quickly."

Harry shrugged, the sting moderated somewhat by the apology. "S'alright, I suppose. Just... it hurts a lot more now, y'know?"

Snape's eyes closed and a brief flash of something crossed his features before they settled back into impassivity. "I know, and I am sorry."

Snape gestured, and Harry fell in just behind him, taking a surreptitious thrill in ogling as much of his arse as could be seen through his robes. He filled in with images from his memory, of grey wool stretched taut and narrow, elegant feet bare on the carpet. Being the age he was, he'd got himself back into a state by the time they made it into the apothecary shop, which managed to distract from, if not heal, the wounds left by Snape's harsh words.

The rest of their business went fairly quickly, a couple of other stops for odd items for Snape, including ordering an entire years' worth of student beakers and phials from a glassmakers. Harry spent the time there perusing the beautiful bottles in their display cases, several of which caught his eye as things that would fare well in Snape's collection. When a junior shopkeeper came over to shoo Harry away from the fragile and expensive wares, he turned out to have just enough gold left on him to have two of his favourites owled to himself, care of Professor Dumbledore at Hogwarts.

Satisfied with his choices -- one for Snape, and one that he couldn't resist for himself, a tiny vial surrounded by a phoenix in full flight, the glass of the bird fading from gold at the wingtips to red over its heart. The vial itself was a clear, opalescent crystal that the shopkeeper assured him was removable and perfectly washable, should he choose to actually make use of the item for storing potions. The bottle for Snape was larger, the vessel itself in the shape of a bright red apple with a single leaf and stem for a stopper. Coiled around the base of the apple was a beautiful green snake with a silver-gilt pattern on its intricate scales, and glittering black eyes.

This one, too, lifted out of its protective creature, but might, he was told cautiously, contaminate certain potions, as the dye in the glass could be leeched away by some common ingredients. Harry asked for a list of the forbidden ingredients to be sent with the bottle, and even paid the extra five Sickles for gift wrapping. Snape stalked over just as Harry was filling out the owl form, but fortunately after the items were whisked away.

"And just what did you find to spend your pocket money on, Mr. Potter?" he asked, the tone of his voice suggesting that whatever he'd found, it would probably be in very poor taste indeed. Only the minute crinkling around his eyes gave away the humour he found in the situation -- after all, these people had dealt with Snape for years. It certainly wouldn't do to let them see him treating a student, and a Gryffindor no less, at all kindly.

Harry didn't let the disdain bother him this time, too caught up in being pleased with himself for the gift to be bothered by an insult that wasn't even meant. Instead he smiled ingenuously and said, "Something in my House colours, of course, Professor."

"Of course," said Snape, dripping with sarcasm. "I trust you've arranged to have it owled to school?"

"Care of the Headmaster, sir," said Harry, handing the parchment over to the shopkeeper when Snape nodded his approval. "Where to next?"

"Lunch," said Snape shortly, giving no hint of their actual destination. The shopkeeper gave Harry a sympathetic look, which Harry returned with rolled eyes and a wink behind Snape's back as he swooped back out into the street.

Harry hurried to catch up, baffled that they were actually headed towards the Weasley's shop, even though it was barely half past eleven. "Er, sir?"

"Yes, Potter?" Snape replied, still snappish but obviously making the attempt to soften his usual tone.

"Aren't we a bit early?" Harry asked, giving up his view to actually walk beside the man instead.

Snape nodded, then said, "I plan on alerting them to our presence, then going next door. I, for one, do not currently have enough parchment to teach an entire summer's worth of extra lessons."

"Oh!" said Harry, remembering the stationer's next door. This, of course, led to memories of their not-tea in the back, and the kisses they'd shared there. He spent most of the walk contemplating Fred and George and Snape, and the differences between them all. After he got his libido in check a bit, he asked, "Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Potter?" This time the tone was less snappish and more impatient.

Harry suppressed a snicker and said, "Will Fred and George be allowed to visit during the summer?"

Snape nodded shortly. "Arrangements might be made for you to spend a few days with them during the holidays as well, depending on the state of the war."

That last word brought Harry up short. War. They were at war. Suddenly the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley took on a more frantic tone, people rushing to and fro without much in the way of the cheerful conversation he'd seen in previous summers. No one was stopping to have a chat over cauldron metals or the price of dragon's blood, merely hustling on to get their business done and themselves back indoors as soon as possible. While Harry was busy planning ways to have it off with anyone who would have him, the rest of the Wizarding world was fearing for their lives.

"Yes, sir," was Harry's much-subdued answer as they reached the still-bustling joke shop.

Snape stopped, drawing Harry into the shadow of the building. He tipped up Harry's chin with one long-fingered hands, each spot of warmth bringing an answering burn somewhere in Harry's body, cheeks and thighs, stomach and groin. He knew rationally that Snape would never kiss him in the middle of Diagon Alley during the height of the day, but his body held out hope. "Harry, you are sheltered from the war because, unlike these good people and their nebulous fears, the Dark Lord wants your life very badly, and will stop at nothing to get it."

"Yes, sir," said Harry quietly, feeling the cold dread in his chest leeching away his desire.

"Therefore, it is only right that you be allowed to forget him at times and pursue the sorts of things that boys your age should be pursuing," he finished softly, brushing Harry's lower lip with his thumb with a feather-light caress before releasing him, a small smile quirking at his mouth. "Even if your taste in paramours could be considered eccentric at best," he added, his voice rich with humour as he turned to enter the shop.

"I happen to think I've got excellent taste," said Harry, finally catching up to Snape at the front counter. The man had a way of slithering through the crowds that Harry envied.

"In what, pet?" said Fred curiosly from where he was carefully bagging up someone's purchase while George took their money.

"Teachers," said Harry, grinning impishly. "I think I've chosen the three best blokes a boy could hope for to see to my education."

George laughed, eyeing Snape lasciviously. "I can't help but agree, Harry," he said, his eyes dancing even as his voice was solemn in its agreement.

"As if your taste is any less eccentric, Mr. Weasley," said Snape darkly, drawn up to his full height and Teacher Voice back in place. Only the slight pinking of his cheeks gave away the act.

"At least I've got a good idea they all know their stuff," said Harry, giggling.

"And how," said Snape contemptuously, "would you even know that?"

"It doesn't take mastery of a subject to detect talent," said Fred, giving George a nudge as Snape's cheeks pinked further. "And I know for a fact that at least two of the teachers have massive talent."

Snape raised an eyebrow at that, eyes flicking down Fred's body to the half that was hidden by the counter. "Inspiring."

That got a laugh out of all three of them, and confused stares from the surrounding customers. "Private joke," said George apologetically to the woman whose purchases he'd been ringing up.

"We will be next door procuring parchment. If we have not returned by the time you are ready to go, you may find us there," Snape said, turning and swooping out as quickly as he'd come in.

"Flash bastard," said George good-naturedly after him. "Well, go on then. We'll just be a few."

"Right," said Harry, turning to go. He looked back over his shoulder and said, "Oh, and Fred?"

"Yeah, Harry?" said Fred, peering up from behind the food counter.

"From here it looks like all of my teachers've got huge talents." Laughter exploded behind Harry as he fled, cheeks burning. Still, Snape had seemed every bit as big as Fred through his trousers, and Harry was actually starting to feel a bit undersized in every way around the three tall men.

Still, it was enough to know they wanted him, mostly. They'd all admitted as much, even Snape had unbent enough to give Harry a kiss he could still feel in his toes whenever he allowed himself to think back on it. He might be scrawny and undersized, but he had something they wanted, and Fred and George weren't exactly lacking for company. Snape was even willing to wait for him, although Harry wasn't quite sure how he honestly felt about the distraction Snape had arranged in the meantime, despite the fact that he would be taking advantage of the same distraction himself.

Harry found Snape in front of a large display of quills, looking for all the world as if the difference between goose and quail feathers was of vast importance to him. Harry longed to have that attention focused on him, the way it had been those few times Snape had let his guard down around Harry and been Severus instead. Severus, the elegant older gentleman, with impeccable taste in clothing and furniture, and a huge cock that showed even through the front of his very proper wool trousers.

Harry sidled up next to Snape and then, somehow, ended up asking, "You won't mind if I'm not all big like you and the twins, will you?" Instead of whatever else he'd been hoping would come out of his mouth. Anything else might have done, really.

Snape turned, his face a mix of incredulity and concern. "Harry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings earlier, I know you've had a difficult life and being short--"

"Not short," hissed Harry, glancing around nervously and then down at the anatomy in question. "Small."

The concern grew along with his widening eyes, but his long fingers deftly plucked a small assortment of quills down off the racks as he spoke, and his voice was as even as if he'd been discussing the weather. "Not that this is the place to be discussing such things, but no, I do not mind in the least. It is certainly not among the list of qualities I require in a... student."

"You're sure?" Harry asked, fidgeting with one of the displays and refusing to meet Snape's eyes. "I mean, it's all the boys ever really talk about, and..." He couldn't quite bring himself to admit to Snape he'd been checking them all out, and found himself wanting.

"Ah," was Snape short reply. After a long pause, during which Harry grew positively nervy and "Why don't you find your supplies? I believe that schoolboy perception is a matter that should be addressed with someone around to confirm the details from my admittedly distant memories."

"Er, alright," said Harry, confused. He did realize that the middle of a busy stationers wasn't exactly the best choice for a talk about cock size, but he also had no idea what Snape was getting at. He sighed and tried to put it out of his mind, grabbing a few quills rather haphazardly and following Snape over to the inks and parchment.

He was a little more focused here, fascinated with magical inks that turned colour according to your mood, or imparted a soft scent to your words that matched the sentiment involved. He even found, tucked into one corner, a little kit with caked inks for drawing, and a pair of Chinese brushes. He added a box of soft pencils in black and a dozen rainbow colours, and a large book of amazingly thick, textured paper for painting with the inks, as well as several long rolls of school-grade parchment.

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry's choices, but paid without comment. They were back in the nearly-empty joke shop with their parcels just before noon, and Fred escorted them into the storeroom with a chivalrous bow and a leer. "You can keep your stuff here, I promise on Gryffindor honour we won't mess with it," he said when he noticed Harry standing awkwardly with his packages. He even found a large empty box to hold everything so they wouldn't misplace any of it by accident.

George and Fred got rid of the last customers and put up a little "Closed for the Afternoon" sign that apologized politely for the inconvenience in a high, adorable voice. Soon enough they were back out on the street and headed towards a tiny little restaurant that George insisted they try. Harry was just happy to be eating, as breakfast had been minimal and hours ago besides, and Severus was content as long as there was little to no chance of another encounter with the Malfoys.

The place was bustling at this hour, and they spent long minutes loitering in the cramped entranceway, waiting for a table to free up. Eventually an impeccably dressed waiter led them back into a dim alcove with a booth. Fred and George each slid into a side, grinning, and waited for Harry and Snape to join them. "Come on, Severus, have a seat. I won't bite in public," said George, when Snape hesitated.

Harry just shrugged and slipped in beside Fred, completely happy to have the excuse to press up against his muscular thigh and shoulder. Fred grinned and slung an arm over Harry's shoulder, and Harry swore for one brief moment that he saw a flash of jealousy in Snape's eyes, but it was gone faster than he could blink. Instead, Snape perched on the edge of the seat with perfect dignity, a small but nearly palpable space between his body and George's.

Harry looked around for a menu, and almost giggled when George wrapped his arm around Snape's waist and pulled the stiff professor closer. "None of that, now. We're taking you two out proper," he said, grinning. "Don't worry, the people here don't mind. The place is owned by a married wizard pair."

"You have found dates!" said a cheerful voice at Harry's elbow, making him jump. "I am delighted to see two such wonderful young men with equally attractive company. Although, you should not scowl so, it ruins the line of your face!"

They all turned to see a round, happy wizard dressed in white chef's robes, a huge grin plastered on his shining face. Harry was shocked when Snape replied, "Indeed. However, I find years of teaching has given me the habit, and I am too old to learn a new one."

"Nonsense, Severus," said the chef jovially. "It is not students but lack of a man that sours you so. You must let our George put a smile on your face."

"If you say so, Bartholomew," said Snape congenially. "I was not aware you'd married. Still with Artemis, I assume?"

"Yes, indeed, I'm sure he'll be out later to catch up." He turned on Harry, grin getting, if anything, wider. "And is this the Boy Who Lived, at my table with young Fred?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry meekly, thankful for the squeeze Fred gave his shoulder. "We went to school together, his brother Ron is in my year."

"Harry helped us start the shop," said Fred helpfully. "He's a good guy, Bartholomew. You'll take good care of him, right?"

"I shall feed you all like kings!" he said triumphantly. "Now, do you have any preferences, or can I have my way with the feeding of such fine young men?"

"I am hardly younger than you, as you well know," said Snape with a mock-sneer. "I believe that we can entrust ourselves to your hands, if that's all right with you, Harry?"

Harry nodded, blushing and thinking mainly that he could stop being the center of attention any time now. Bartholomew disappeared back into the kitchens, and Fred brushed gentle knuckles over Harry's burning cheek. "Don't worry, pet, Bartholomew and Artemis are the best chefs in Diagon Alley."

Harry let himself sag into Fred's embrace. "It's not that, I just... I hate all that Boy Who Lived crap, y'know?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at that, even though Harry had told him so many times over. He supposed it carried more weight in this setting than it did yelled during Potions and losing him yet another quantity of House points. Fred positively purred as Harry snuggled into him, for once not minding being small. It felt good to be in the shadow of Fred's much larger form, surrounded by trusted, caring arms. He closed his eyes and wallowed in the feeling for a few long moments before opening them to find everyone, once again, staring.

"What?" said Harry, sitting up a bit indignantly.

George just grinned, and Fred dropped a kiss on the top of Harry's head, but it was Snape who said, "Just admiring the view."

Harry's eyes got wide, and he blushed again, suddenly self-conscious of his awful t-shirt and unkempt hair, much-repaired glasses and ill-fitting trousers. "Oh," he said softly, wishing he could hide.

"If I didn't already have someone, Harry, you know I'd keep you, right?" said Fred softly, a sentiment echoed by George a moment later.

"You're lovely," he said simply, reaching one long arm across the table to repeat Fred's earlier caress.

"Am not," said Harry crossly. "Besides, you two get to touch Severus, and he's right sexy when he wants to be."

It was Snape's turn to blush and be scrutinized, still sitting stiffly despite George's hand spread out large over the whole of his waist. Harry wondered what it would look like, George's hand wrapped around Snape's cock, Snape's face transported in pleasure, and realized that obviously being around attractive men turned him into a total pervert. "He does have a point," George murmured, glancing out into the restaurant to make sure they were still unobserved before nuzzling lightly at Snape's neck.

Instead of pulling away as Harry half-expected, Severus melted into George's embrace, face going slack with pleasure as the lips that Harry remembered so vividly went to work behind his ear. "I think he likes it," said Fred softly, breath ruffling Harry's hair.

"Do you blame him?" said Harry, getting flushed this time from something quite the opposite of embarrassment.

Fred leaned down and whispered right into Harry's ear, "Not a bit. After all, I know exactly how talented that mouth is."

Harry bit his lip to keep in a moan as Fred nipped at his ear. Both twins straightened suddenly, leaving Harry and Snape to give slightly glazed thanks to the waiter who appeared a moment later with drinks -- some strange exotic iced coffee for Snape, Italian sodas that pulsed with colour for both Fred and George, and a butterbeer float for Harry, plus glasses of cold, clear water, each with a thin lemon slice floating on top that reminded Harry forcibly of Severus' tea.

"Harry is developing a complex," said Snape into the sudden stillness left by the waiter. He stirred his drink with a long-handled spoon and the same precision he used in Potions class, ice clinking as he mixed the thick cream at the bottom with the fragrant coffee on top. Harry was too fascinated by the movement of his hands to register the words right away, and thus he missed his opportunity to prevent Snape from following up with, "He believes that we will find his endowments inadequate."

"Been intimidating him, Severus?" said George with a grin and a pointed flick of his eyes to Snape's lap below the table.

"He has not, nor will he during the course of his Hogwarts education, see anything by which he could be intimidated. I believe it was your comments earlier which planted the seeds of this doubt," said Snape stiffly, sipping his coffee with an evil twinkle in his eye.

"Well, I won't deny we're both gifted beyond all expectation in that area, but Merlin knows a bloke doesn't have to have a salami in his pants to please us!" said Fred, looking down at Harry with something akin to concern.

"If you don't want me to die of embarrassment right now, you should really all shut up," said Harry through gritted teeth.

He was saved from whatever reply they might have made by the appearance of yet another waiter, this one bearing a square platter of tiny colourful bites of something on little triangles of toast, and a stack of smaller plates for each of them. "Ooh, you'll love these, Harry," said George, fortunately distracted from talk of Harry's theoretical inadequacies.

"Quite. I believe that they have been perfecting this recipe since I was a boy, although back then they were just sous chefs at The Flying Fish in Hogsmeade." Snape reached out and delicately plucked one of the appetizers off the tray, then placed it in his open mouth with perfect grace. He didn't even get any of the sauce on his fingers, and Harry regretted the lost opportunity to watch him clean it off.

Fred and George each snagged three of the little treats, setting them on their plates and leaving five on the platter. Harry took one cautiously, sniffing it dubiously before nibbling on a corner. The sauce was creamy and just a tiny bit spicy, but good, so he shrugged and ate the whole thing. It melted in his mouth, the spice intensifying just a touch and then sinking into the toast, a strange mix of flavours Harry had mostly never encountered before blending together on his tongue. He absently licked the remaining sauce off his fingers as he chewed and swallowed, only then becoming aware of the sudden silence all around him.

"How can you possibly resist that mouth for a whole year?" said George, his voice tight with wonder and desire.

"I believe you now understand why I felt it necessary to enlist your expert assistance," said Snape smugly, sipping serenely at his coffee, the heat in his eyes the only hint that he wasn't as unaffected as he pretended.

"It's like having our cake and eating it, too," said Fred, staring from Harry to Snape and back again. Harry was mesmerised by the sight of Snape's lips wrapped around the slender white straw, his long fingers gently steadying it as he sucked.

"We are definitely getting the best of this bargain, even if it only lasts a year," agreed George, nibbling at one of the appetizers.

Harry felt warm all over from the compliment and implied desire in it. He'd never felt attractive, except for those few moments when he'd had Snape's lips on his own, and he finally allowed himself to ask, "You really don't mind?"

"Mind what, exactly?" said George carefully while Fred struggled to swallow his bite.

Harry shrugged, chest going tight, and looked down at his hands in his lap. Maybe they only really did want Snape, and were taking him on as a prerequisite to getting the professor's attentions. "T-teaching me. Kissing me."

Fred gently tipped Harry's face up to meet his tender brown eyes. "Harry, I would give quite a lot for the chance to kiss you again, and anything else you'll let me get away with before we have to hand you over to Severus," he said seriously.

"The only part we really mind at all is giving you up at the end, and even then, we've still got each other, don't we?" said George, sipping gently at his drink.

"How come you're so sure... I mean, how d'you know he'll even want me at the end?" said Harry quietly.

"I believe they are merely seeing what is obvious to anyone with eyes," said Severus softly. There was a long, quiet pause, while George sipped his soda and Fred's fingers ghosted over Harry's upturned face. Snape finally broke it by smiling sardonically and adding, "Perhaps it is time to get you new glasses?"

Harry choked out a laugh, fighting the urge to curl up and cry like some bloody stupid girl. He leaned into Fred's arms instead, hiding his face until he got his breathing under control, hating himself for his reaction. Snape hadn't said it was love or anything like that, just that he wanted Harry, but it was a lot more than he'd ever had before, being wanted. "I suppose it's about time, I haven't had new ones since before Hogwarts," he said as he sat up and grabbed another one of the little treats, ignoring how tight his voice felt in his throat.

"These are really good," said Harry into the ensuing shocked silence.

"Harry, have you seriously not had new glasses in six years?" said Fred, concerned.

Harry gave a painful little half-shrug. "Never had the chance at school, and the Dursleys won't buy me anything they're not forced to."

"Then I believe a trip to the Occulist is in order," said Snape, the tone of his voice implying that the Dursleys were very, very lucky to have relinquished custody of Harry already, or they might end up painfully unhappy at having to answer to Snape.

"Don't you need appointments and things?" said Harry, surprised. It had always been an ordeal, when the school made the Dursleys upgrade his glasses, with phone calls and special driving and a great fuss made so that Dudley would get something out of the trips as well.

"I believe that any Occulist worth his license will make time for a teenager whose prescription is six years out of date," said Snape dismissively.

"And this way you can get proper Wizarding glasses," said George, popping his last treat into his mouth and chewing ecstatically. "You'll have a whole new look by the end of the day!"

The rest of the meal proceeded with a parade of new and wonderful flavours, and agreeable conversation about everything from the twins' latest invention to Snape's improvements on the Wolfsbane potion. Harry mostly just sat and watched and ate, content to sit in the shadow of the three strong men. Fred was a little more serious than George, he thought, but George tended to have better backing for his opinions, and Snape, when he unbent, turned out to have a wicked sense of humour that got them all laughing.

All in all, he thought it might have been the best meal of his life. Especially when Artemis showed up at the end with a brilliant dessert that seemed to consist mostly of different patterns of flavoured sauces on a plate, with vanilla ice cream at the center to smear in it. Harry managed to get something they told him was mango on his nose, and he carefully stored away the memory of Snape licking ice cream delicately off a spoon for future reference. Fred and George fed each other bites in a way that made Harry's heart ache with longing, and the whole experience left him on the knife-edge of desire.

The walk to Gringott's was spent much more quietly as Snape kept a weather eye out for trouble, and Harry willed his erection to go away. Surprisingly, it worked at least part way, even with George's arm draped over his shoulders and Fred quietly invading Snape's personal space at every possible opportunity. The anxiety about his future seemed to have a welcome calming effect on his otherwise implacable libido.

Harry's vault was bigger than he remembered, the rough walls perforated with strange dusty niches he'd never looked past all that shining gold to see. Severus went around the small room with him, exploring those little alcoves while the twins cast spells to stack, sort and count the piles of coinage, murmuring numbers so high they ceased to have meaning to Harry's overfull brain. He felt as though each new bit of information was sloshing out some of the desire, though, letting the lust dribble away as each pebble of serious matter came to rest in his mind.

There was the deed to his parents' ruined house, the property left fallow and unused for the bulk of Harry's lifetime. Another deed, to some house in the country that his parents had rented to farmers, the income a steady trickle that still helped to fill the vault with gold. A few dozen dusty books, which Snape pronounced possibly valuable to the Order and requested to borrow. A box of bright jewels undulled by time, including a completely ridiculous tiara he suddenly wanted to throw across the room.

Snape stopped him, taking away the box and setting it carefully in its niche, then drawing Harry unresisting into his arms. "I did not know you would want to do this today," said Snape softly, "or I might have arranged for more time."

Harry clung to him, all thoughts of sex lost in the fresh, raw welling of grief for his parents. He thought he should really be getting over this by now, but being here, amongst the material things that were all they had to give him, it opened up an entirely different set of wounds. Ones scraped into his soul in by a childhood of deprivation, years locked in a cupboard with only spiders to talk to, ironically not even knowing that, had there been snakes, he'd actually have had company.

Strong arms wrapped around the two of them, one set on each side hiding Harry completely from the glitter of a fortune he'd give up gladly for one more minute with his parents or godfather. They stood that way for a long time, pointedly ignored by the goblin waiting outside, nothing but the four of them in the whole world. Harry finally took a deep breath and pushed gently, and all three men stepped away at once, leaving him slightly off-balance.

"Thanks," he said softly, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Anything for a mate, Harry," said George lightly, going back over to the odd little corner he'd been poking around in before Harry had freaked out. "Er, Severus, you'd better come see this."

Fred put an arm around Harry's shoulders again, and Harry' gratefully wrapped his own around the slim waist, catching his fingers on Fred's belt-loops. "So, how rich am I?" he asked quietly, staring at the pile.

"Living carefully, you'd never have to work," said Fred seriously. "If you paid to get the house rebuilt, it'd take some away, but a bit of careful investment would make it back. With the right investments, and depending on the income from that farm, you might even be able to live a bit richly if you managed it right."

"Harry," said Snape hoarsely, his voice tight and pained. "I believe... we have found Sirius Black's missing Will."

"Oh, fuck," said Harry, knees going weak; Fred held him up easily as he sagged against the comforting solidity. He wasn't sure he could handle this now, and was immensely relieved when Snape strode over, not to him, but to the little goblin studiously ignoring them in the doorway.

"I believe this to be the Last Will and Testament of Sirius Black," said Snape, and the goblin nodded.

"We'll take care of it," he said shortly. "The appropriate parties will be notified by owl after it's been authenticated and read."

"I trust in your integrity," said Snape formally, bowing to the little creature before sweeping back to Harry. "I think it's time to go. I know we haven't found everything, but..."

"No, it's all right. I don't think... I can't take any more surprises today," said Harry softly, feeling strangely fragile, like his skull was made of glass, and all those hard little facts would jostle and break it open if he subjected it to any more sudden jolts.

"Do you need a few moments before we go?" said Snape, his face wearing an expression of genuine concern that would shock anyone who knew them both.

"N-no. I think I'd like to get away now," Harry replied quietly. "Will you... take care of me today?"

"I will handle your monetary affairs, Harry, and do whatever is in my power to care for your state of mind as well," said Snape, stepping forward hesitantly.

Harry curled into his arms for a quick hug, then steeled himself and headed for the door. He winced slightly at the clink of coins as Snape gathered the necessary cash. Harry tried very hard not to think of it all as blood money.


	6. Continuing As We've Begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets new clothes and a bit of education.

Harry was quiet and sombre the whole way to the Occulist's office, barely speaking even as his eyes were tested with various odd magical equipment. The doctor and his assistant both tut-tutted at the state of Harry's prescription, advising him to get the more expensive glasses that would adjust to his changing eyesight as he aged. They would eventually simply physically wear out, but Harry was assured that he would get back the extra investment at least twice over before that happened.

Harry agreed easily to everything, letting the twins suggest other enhancements, like night vision, translation and even a version of the Sneakoscope spell. He took the first two, plus a charm to keep moisture and dirt off, and another that darkened the lenses in bright sunlight. He regretfully decided that any kind of Dark Detecting enhancements would only distract him in the haunted hallways of Headquarters, or a place like Hogwarts, filled with students committing a hundred tiny sins. He asked about things like seeing through invisibility, or walls, but the price tag on those enhancements made him balk, even after seeing his own wealth counted out into a lifetime's worth of coinage.

He spent a strange half hour sitting and watching a blurry world while Fred, George and one of the assistants bickered over frames, eventually giving up and asking Snape what he thought, as he couldn't see well enough to judge for himself. Snape plucked a pair of thin, almost rectangular wire frames off the wall and placed them carefully on Harry's nose. "These, I believe, enhance the best of your features," he said seriously, stepping back to admire the effect.

"He's right," said Fred, shaking his head and grinning.

"How'd we miss those?" said George, slinging a carefully casual arm around his brother's shoulder. Harry could barely see the two of them, reduced to colours and shapes by the lack of lenses in the frames, but there was something, as Snape had said, strangely right about the two of them like that. In each other's space, arms, and lives.

"All right, Mr. Potter?" said the assistant, a perky blonde witch, plucking the delicate-seeming dark silver frames off of Harry's face. When Harry nodded, she added, "I'll just take these back to the lab wizards, then, and we'll have your glasses all charmed and ready for you in a week. Where should we send them?"

"You don't, er, need to fit them or something?" said Harry curiously, putting back on his old glasses with relief. Things weren't nearly so clear as they had been in the Occulists' chair, but it was still far better than nothing.

"Oh, goodness no!" said the witch, surprised. "Everything will self-adjust once they're on. The frames are to be charmed as well, of course."

"Right, of course," said Harry faintly. He sat quietly while Snape paid a seemingly exorbitant amount to yet another attractive young assistant, this one a charming wizard who tried valiantly to flirt despite Snape's utter lack of encouragement, and arranged for delivery via owl to Hogwarts.

"Shall we?" said Fred, holding an arm out for Harry when they were done. "Got to get you proper clothes to go with your new eyes."

Harry stood and hooked his arm through Fred's, feeling a bit girlish until George did the same on the other side. They had to break apart in order to negotiate their way out of the shop, and Harry found himself with a twin on either side once they got outside, with himself sandwiched between them in a manner that brought all sorts of thoughts to his head. He was grateful for them, despite the fact that an erection would make trying on clothes no little embarrassing, because at least they distracted him from thoughts of his parents' money, and Sirius' unread Will.

Snape walked in front of them with unruffled dignity, leading the way to the London Gladrags. As they approached the door, Snape slowed just enough to toss over his shoulder, "Best cease mauling him, or they won't allow you into the changing rooms together."

"Spoilsport," said Fred jovially, stepping up to once again invade Snape's personal space instead. George ruffled Harry's already-mussed hair and let his arm drop, instead putting his hands in his pockets.

Fred shot them a rakish grin as he held the door, bowing mock-courtly to Harry as he passed and doing something to make George jump and glare as he brought up the rear of their motley little group. Snape strode purposefully towards the men's side of the store, leading them to racks of clothing in styles ranging from hopelessly outdated elegance to outlandish absurdity, at least in Harry's eyes.

"I want simple stuff, that'll fit and not make me look like an idiot," said Harry, looking around somewhat hopelessly. He'd never been shopping for clothing, aside from his student robes at Madame Malkin's, and this was nothing at all like that.

"Don't worry, Harry," said George, slinging his arm back over Harry's shoulder. "Me 'n' Fred'll take care of you."

"And I will be here to assure that you neither overspend your budget, nor end up with clothes only suitable for the young and foolish," said Snape, striding over to a chair next to the changing rooms and settling in, obviously intending to oversee the entire proceeding from there.

Fred had already started rummaging among the racks, saying, "What size d'you think he is, George?"

"Dunno, really, he's a lot smaller than us, that's for sure," said George, using the excuse to wrap both large hands around Harry's narrow waist. "Skinny as a rail, in fact."

An attendant chose that moment to glide on over, causing George to jump away guiltily. "I can size him for you," said the stuffy little wizard, holding out his wand. "Come here, my boy, it's quite painless," he demanded, when Harry moved to hide slightly behind George.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, after glancing at Snape for reassurance and receiving a cool nod. He walked into the open space and stood nervously as the attendant cast the spell.

A slight tickle ran over his skin, but it was gone before he could really register it, and the wizard announced solemnly, "He is a W7 short, but I expect he'll have a growth spurt soon, so buy a little big and long. Perhaps as much as a W9 regular?"

"The boy has always been small for his age; he is nearly seventeen now," said Snape disapprovingly.

"Oh! I didn't realize, I'm sorry. Next to these great hulking brutes, I thought you were younger. Yes, perhaps just a W8 short then," he said apologetically, glancing at Fred and George with a slight smile.

Harry was glad that the mussed fringe of his hair hid his scar; for once, he was being treated exactly like any other customer. "I'll need pants, too," he said quietly, before the attendant could get away and descend on a less intimidating group.

"Boxers or y-fronts?" asked the man briskly. Harry tried not to notice the way Fred and George both perked up at that.

"Er, boxers, please," said Harry weakly.

"Colour?" said the man, glancing around the strange little group nervously.

"How about an assortment?" said Harry, desperate to get the attendant away, no matter how necessary the items.

"Fabric?" came the next inevitable question.

"Cotton?" said Harry, running out of ready answers.

"Bring him a couple of silk ones, too," said George with a grin. "He'll like those."

"Of course, sir. Anything else?"

"Er, and socks, too," said Harry. He thought of the awful ones they'd found for Dobby and added quickly, "But just white for those, and a few black. And no singing or anything."

The attendant nodded. "Right. How many of each?"

"I believe a dozen pairs of each will be sufficient. He will also need a few pairs of y-fronts for Quidditch, and some thicker socks for winter," said Snape, coming to Harry's rescue at last. He was happy that Snape had remembered about the discomfort of riding a broom in boxers, which Harry had spent years putting out of his mind whenever possible. He shot Snape a look of gratitude, which Snape acknowledged with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll just get those ready for you and leave you to it, then?" said the attendant, looking as relieved as Harry felt. He walked over to one of the cubicle doors and tapped his wand against it. "You can change in here. If you plan on wearing anything home, just let me know and it'll be added to your bill."

"Thanks," said Harry, happy to have the underwear part of the ordeal over, at any rate.

"Right, let's get you trying things on, then. George, you want to give him a hand?" said Fred, passing a multicoloured pile of fabric off to his brother.

"Come on, Harry," said George, opening the door and motioning Harry into a room that was quite a bit larger than the kiosk it was built into. There were mirrors on all the walls, and Harry hoped fervently that none of them talked as he went in and began stripping.

"Well, Harry, do you want to start with shirts first or..." George trailed off when he turned from setting the clothes down, only to find Harry standing awkwardly in his knickers in the middle of the room, erection straining at the damp front of the too-large pants. "Bloody hell."

Harry blushed. He should've known that he wouldn't measure up once he was out of his clothes, but he hadn't wanted to put off the moment, instead shucking his kit as fast as he could as if he could stay ahead the nervousness. "I know I'm not all--" began Harry miserably, before George interrupted him.

"You're perfect, Harry," he said, voice reverent. "I can't believe you're trusting me 'n' Fred to..."

"Show me the pleasures of the flesh?" said Harry with a somewhat forced grin.

"Touch you," George corrected gently, moving towards him as if mesmerised, clothing forgotten.

Harry allowed himself to be pulled into George's arms, twining his fingers in coarse red hair. He let George lead the kiss, gasping when huge, warm hands caressed his bare back and getting a gentle taste of George's tongue for his troubles. He let himself go boneless and pliant beneath the expert touches, only pulling away when a thumb dragged over his nipple and wrenched a groan from his throat. "Ohgod," he panted softly, leaning his forehead against George's chest. "I'm going to come if you don't stop."

"I want to see you come so badly, Harry," whispered George in his ear, arms wrapping all the way around him and pulling their bodies close until Harry could feel George's thick cock against his belly. "But you deserve so much more than a quick fumble in a changing room."

Harry pulled back, a bit dazed, and nodded. "I want Fred to be here, too," he said shyly. "I don't ever want to come between you."

Fred chose that moment to enter, arms loaded with more clothes. "Oh trust me, Harry, we want you to come between us. And under us, and on top of us..." he trailed off, finally looking up to see Harry nearly naked in his brother's arms. "Bloody hell."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, giggling until his side hurt as Fred and George looked at him quizzically. "That's just..." he gasped, "what your brother said!"

George dissolved into laughter right along with him, pausing long enough to gasp out an explanation. "Just now... looked up... said, 'Bloody hell.'... Should've seen his face... thought he'd done something wrong!"

Fred looked from one to the other in disbelief, then gave in and laughed himself, sitting in one of the spindly little chairs scattered around the room. "Well, when you two are quite done, there's clothing to be tried on!" he said a little impatiently, when he'd recovered and found them still sniggering.

"Do I get a kiss first?" said Harry, his spirits and confidence considerably raised.

He held a hand out to Fred, who took it with a slightly bemused look. "Does he realize?" he asked George mysteriously before enfolding Harry in a close, warm embrace.

"Apparently not," said George. "Poor Snape."

"I heard that," said a voice through the door. "You'd do well to keep it down in there, it's not soundproofed at all."

Harry would've giggled again had Fred's mouth not descended on his, silencing his laughter with a different demand. He nibbled along Harry's lips, then instead of plunging in as before, he trailed nips and kisses over Harry's jaw and down his neck, ending with a gentle bite right over his collarbone that nearly melted his knees. When Fred released him with a sigh, he immediately went to sit, completely unselfconscious of the goofy grin on his face. "I knew you two'd be good at this," he said dreamily.

"Y'hear that, Snape?" said George, grinning. "You're next!"

"One hopes," Snape replied snarkily. There was a heartbeat of silence before he added, "You do remember that the purpose of this visit is to put clothes _on_ him?"

"Yes, Professor," chorused the twins, equal looks of mischief on their nearly identical faces.

Fred dug a shirt and trousers out of the stack and handed them to Harry, while George eyed Harry's discarded trainers with distaste. "You'll need shoes, too," he said, giving Fred a meaningful glance Harry quickly slithered into the clothing.

"Quit it with the weird silent twin communication," said Harry peevishly, admiring himself in the mirror. The shirt was form-fitting and long-sleeved, and a rather flattering shade of charcoal grey. The trousers were simple and unadorned in lighter grey wool, and the whole thing combined made Harry look a lot closer to his age than his old clothes had. "This isn't bad, eh? Let's show Severus."

"Sorry, we were just wondering if you'd brought enough cash for a whole new wardrobe. We hadn't really thought..." said George, as Harry opened the door and stepped out.

"I assure you, I was quite aware of the state of his clothing when I withdrew from his vault," said Snape smoothly, garnering another grateful smile from Harry.

"What d'you think of this, then?" said Harry, turning. He rather hoped that grey wool would do as much for his arse as it had for Snape's.

"Quite nice, for a start," he said, a small smile blooming as Harry peered coyly over his shoulder, deliberately showing off the anatomy in question.

"Make me look shaggable?" said Harry impishly.

Snape rolled his eyes, the grin widening and ruining his attempt to seem stern. "Evidently, although I can dress you up, I cannot yet let you out in public. Go try on something else."

Harry complied, going through the whole pile and then some, and ending up with what he thought was quite a nice little wardrobe. He had dress robes, normal robes, shirts, trousers, even a fancy suit with a frock coat like Snape's, only less, well, severe. He tended a bit towards red and gold, but that was all right for a Gryffindor, and the twins made sure he had an assortment of other colours to choose from. When they were done, he put on a simple pair of jeans and a close-fitting blue t-shirt that said "Broomstick Expert," and got him a glare from Snape.

The attendant appeared as they were finishing up, sensing somehow that they were about done, and said, "Will you be wearing that home, then?"

"Yes, please," said Harry, his nervousness long gone dissolved by the twins' casual joking and Snape's quiet approval. "I'll need shoes, and socks as well," he added, pointing down to his bare feet.

"Right this way. I'll have the rest of this taken up to the front and totaled for you, Mr., er...?" he trailed off, obviously expecting Harry to give his name.

"Potter," said Harry a bit miserably.

"Mr. Potter, right," said the man briskly, surprising Harry yet again when he didn't ask which Potter, or demand to see the scar or shake his hand. Another attendant, this one obviously junior, appeared to take the stack of 'yes' clothes from Fred, and they all four trooped off to find shoes.

"I'm assuming you'll want another set of trainers?" said the man officiously, obviously disapproving of such lowbrow footwear.

"Yes, please," said Harry meekly, tired of all the fuss.

"And dress shoes, low boots, and a pair of house shoes as well," said Snape from behind him.

"All right, then," said the little man, expression brightening at the list. He glanced off towards the counter, perking up again at the sight of Harry's giant pile of clothing being magically boxed up into neat packages. "Quite the shopping spree, eh, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, sitting down on the little stool the man brought out.

"Well, let's just see what we've got for you, then," said the attendant, bustling off to the back. He returned with his arms piled high with boxes, and Fred and George rushed to help out. He thanked them and plucked the top box off the pile, showing them to Harry. A pair of simple white trainers nestled in the paper, with red griffins stitched into the sides. "Will these suit?"

"They're ace!" said Harry, grabbing one out to try on. He realized he still had no socks, but the man simply summoned a pair from Harry's pile of purchases and handed them over wordlessly. They fit perfectly, quite the most comfortable shoes Harry had ever worn. "I'll take them. What else?"

There were three more pairs of trainers, but Harry had his heart set on these now, which happily had no bizarre magical enhancements. Evidently the man was at least capable of listening, as the only charms on any of the shoes were self-shining charms on the glossy black dress shoes that Harry chose to go with his robes. He also picked out a pair of old-fashioned boots that matched the suit, and another pair of low, soft boots for casual wear. A pair of self-warming slippers were summoned from the back when Snape reminded him, and they completed the wardrobe switch nicely.

"Will you be taking these things home with your father, then, or shall we deliver?" said the man, a bit unctuously now that he'd seen the total receipt. The pile of Galleons Snape had handed over had been more than the glasses, and quite enough to make Harry cringe.

"He's not my father," said Harry, chest oddly tight.

"Oh! My apologies, I just thought..." the man stammered, blushing slightly.

"Clearly, you did not think, as it is obvious that the boy springs from a much more fortunate lineage," said Snape bitingly, his full Teacher Voice somewhat satisfying when directed at someone who wasn't Harry.

"When he paid, I mean, you've got none of the signs..." said the man a bit desperately, obviously worried that Snape would demand his gold back.

"It's my money, I just asked him to handle it for me. I'm not good with Wizarding money yet," said Harry defensively.

"I am his professor. Not his father, nor his paramour. Please, in the future, refrain from making any more foolish assumptions about the relationships of your clientele, as you are obviously not observant enough to do it correctly," said Snape, eyes flashing. "Have the packages delivered to Hogwarts, care of the Headmaster."

"Yes, sir," said the little attendant miserably, writing up a slip and handing it and the quill nervously to Harry for him to sign. "It'll be there tonight," he added, with a wan smile.

"It had better," said Snape, turning and swooping out in grand style, with Harry and the twins trailing along behind.

"Brilliant!" said George, as soon as the door swung shut behind them. "You're a marvel, Professor."

"You all right, there, Harry?" asked Fred, looking a bit concerned. "I mean, Snape's attractive enough, but I don't know that I'd want to be mistaken for the fruit of his loins."

"We've got other plans for his loins," said George with a wink. Harry nodded, then grinned and pointed at Snape's retreating back. A few more exchanged gestures, and they all took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Professor," said all three of them in an annoyingly cheerful chorus.

Severus harrumphed and forged ahead, not even breaking his stride when a faint explosion came from behind them. Harry giggled and mock-glared at the twins. "You'd better not have ruined my new clothes!"

"Naah," said Fred cheerfully. "Left it in the dressing room." The three boys laughed their way back to the shop, and Harry could have sworn he even heard a single low chuckle drift over Snape's stiff back.

The twins unlocked the shop, leaving the closed sign out even though they still had a few hours of afternoon left. Instead, they headed towards the storeroom, beckoning cheerfully when Harry hung back at the doorway. George gestured for them to follow, saying, "Come on! There's a proper living room upstairs, we can have a nice chat."

"Or a bit of snogging," said Fred with a leer as Snape brushed past him.

"As much as I may regret it," said Snape as they trooped upstairs, "I do not believe that I can participate in any... snogging... in good conscience, while Harry is present as well."

"We're quite willing to separate you two if it'll get us somewhere," said George, an evil glint in his eye as he glanced back at them.

The hallway at the top of the stairs spilled out into a surprisingly large room. There was an open kitchen in back with two stools pulled up to the counter between it and the main room, obviously where Fred and George were accustomed to taking their meals. A large fireplace took up the rest of the wall that the hallway emerged from, and there was a battered couch and two comfortable-looking chairs crowded in front of the worn hearthrug.

"Tea?" asked Fred, wandering towards the kitchen while George flopped down on the couch. "I promise not to spike it."

Suddenly, Harry felt the days' accumulated stresses weighing heavily on him. "Oh Merlin, yes," he said, taking the end of the couch that wasn't currently occupied by George.

"Want to have dinner in as well?" Fred called from the kitchen. "I can start a stew now, if that's the case, and it'll be ready in a few hours. We've bread enough left for four, I think."

Harry, who was quite tired of being out and about, pre-empted whatever Snape had been about to say. "Sounds exquisite."

"As long as there are no unfortunate charms or potions involved," said Snape, glaring at Harry a bit before settling into the chair on the left.

George snaked an arm out and looped it around Harry's waist, pulling him up against his firm body. "Don't mind a bit of a cuddle, do you, Severus?"

Snape glared a bit, "I suppose not," he said, then got a thoughtful look. "How well are you warded?"

"As well as we can, all things considered," said George, as Harry settled himself more comfortably, allowing himself to curl his feet under and snuggle up to the broad chest. George seemed gratified by the contact, running his hand up and down Harry's side, from hip to shoulder and back again in soothing pattern. Harry felt himself growing drowsy from the warmth of it, the safety. Severus was watching over him, and George was holding him, and Fred was puttering about making homey little sounds in the kitchen.

He drifted off to the sound of conversation above him, letting his cares drain away with his consciousness as he fell deeply asleep. He dreamed he was playing chess with Snape in his quarters, only this time Harry had on nothing but his old, loose boxers, and Snape's toes were climbing his thigh possessively. He moaned a bit, spreading them wide, offering himself wantonly to the surprisingly agile touch. A hand on his shoulder shook him, trying to distract him from the lovely way Snape's foot was rubbing against his cock through his pants, and he batted the hand away peevishly.

"Come on, Harry, wake up. It's time for dinner," said Fred's voice, incongruous enough with his dream to make him open his eyes.

His surroundings swam into soft focus, the wood beams of the ceiling weirdly unfamiliar until he realized his head was pillowed on George's thigh. He was lying on his back, legs spread wantonly, cock pressing against his jeans with a painful ache. Fred's face made its way into his field of vision, followed by George, who leaned over and said, "Having a nice dream, were we?"

Harry blushed, sitting up carefully, mindful of his sleep-woozy head. He pulled his untucked shirt down over his lap and glanced over at Snape, who had a completely unreadable expression on his face. Harry's stomach growled loudly, breaking the moment, and he laughed and asked, "Did you say dinner?"

"Yeah. We're going to eat here, if that's all right," said George, ruffling Harry's hair in a disconcertingly brotherly way. He wondered if his nap had reminded them too much of Ron, and the fact that Harry was their little brother's age, too young to be kissing.

"That's fine," he said, trying to pull himself up out of the last vestiges of sleep, catching a remembered snatch of his dream. He glanced over at Snape, catching him staring, and was surprised when the professor blushed slightly and looked away. "Er, did I, y'know, say anything? In my sleep?"

Snape coughed and kept his eyes carefully averted. George laughed, and Fred took pity on him. "You slept quietly for a bit, but once you rolled over and spread your legs, you started saying his name," he said gently, pointing at Snape. "It looked like you were quite enjoying it, whatever he was doing."

Harry's cheeks flamed, remembering the feeling of Snape's foot in his lap from his dream. "Bugger," he said quietly but with feeling. "Er, sorry?" he added a little louder.

"There is nothing to apologise for," said Snape stiffly. "You are not responsible for your subconscious."

"Well, it's not like you didn't know," said Harry with a shrug. He'd get over it, like he did every other embarrassment that the universe seemed determined to subject him to, usually in front of Snape.

"You looked dead sexy, too," said George, after a few moments of silence. Harry's cheeks, which had almost gone back to their normal colour, flamed bright red as he thought about the three men watching him have an erotic dream about Snape.

"Can we never, ever bring this up again, please?" said Harry helplessly. "Along with that other issue," he added for good measure.

"You've not got any worries there, anyway," said Fred with a grin. "We saw you when you were changing, and you've got quite the respectable package."

"We'll show you ours if you show us yours," added George with a leer.

"Please refrain until after I have retired for the evening," said Snape with a put-upon air.

Fred handed Harry a bowl of beef stew and a hunk of bread, then went back to the kitchen, presumably for more. "What d'you mean?" said Harry, taking a deep whiff of the stew, which smelled heavenly to his perpetually starving senses. "I'm staying with you, aren't I?"

"You are, but I have decided, to allow the three of you to spend the latter portion of the evening in privacy, if you wish. I will retire to the Leaky Cauldron after dinner, and expect you no later than ten. The twins have agreed to escort you back, and be responsible for your safety while you are here." He paused, and that flash of something like jealousy passed over his features again before he added, "I believe you will be more comfortable having your first... explorations... here, where there is no chance of interruption."

Harry, while admittedly eager for the chance to have his first proper hands-on lessons with the twins, felt a twinge at the thought of Snape alone for the night. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

Snape looked almost angry at that, his tight features settling on mildly irritated and superior as he said, "I have had more years of practice in keeping myself entertained than you have been alive."

"That doesn't mean it's not hard to be left out of a good shag," said Fred, handing Snape his own bowl of stew. "Our offer still stands, you know."

"I believe Harry is correct in his assertion that it is best if any dalliances were to always include both you and your brother." Snape's voice dropped to a murmur as he added, "Jealousy is a strange beast, and I would not loose it on the two of you."

"You're probably right," said George quietly, after Fred had left to get more food. "I'd hate to miss the first time getting you naked."

"Or the first time Harry came at the touch of another man's hand," said Fred, balancing two bowls this time. He thrust one at George, then sat in the empty chair.

Harry blushed, then realised finally what the jealousy was that he'd been seeing in Snape's eyes. He'd come to Snape a virgin, pretty much untouched, but Snape was handing that precious duty over to Fred and George, unwilling to make Harry wait, even though it wasn't what he himself might have wanted. Harry vowed silently to save something for Snape, leave some part of himself untouched so that he and Severus could have one of his firsts for themselves.

"Quite," said Snape softly, picking at his food.

"I could wait," said Harry suddenly, despite the protest from his still-hard prick.

Snape's head snapped up, and Fred and George both froze. "You will do no such thing," said Snape severely. His tone softened as he continued, "Your entire sexual education should not come from a single source, even if you are determined to decide your future on a single moment of folly."

Harry was baffled for a moment, then understanding dawned. "You're talking about when you kissed me," said Harry, and Snape nodded. "Well, I don't think it's folly, and I'm not deciding just on that one moment, am I? I mean, there's been more, then and since. You've been kind, and funny, as well as all those other things I said before. And your feet are still right sexy." He blushed at the last, remembering his dream.

"His feet?" said George, glancing at Snape's old-fashioned boots.

"They're long an elegant and pale, just like him, and his toes are just..." Harry realized he was acting the girl and shut his mouth with a click.

Fred grinned around a mouthful of stew. "Our Harry's got a few kinks in him already."

"Was that your dream?" asked George, eyes narrowing shrewdly.

Harry blushed further, and nodded. He busied himself with his stew so he wouldn't have to watch them, wishing he could disappear as Fred said, "That's kind of hot, in a weird way."

A glance showed him that Snape, at least, was as embarrassed as he was, and that warmed him enough to say, "I meant it, though. As much as I like and want Fred and George, I'd save all my firsts for you if you'd let me."

Snape's face softened, and he actually sat back and thought over what Harry had said. "I believe," he said gently, after a few tense moments, "that it is enough that you offered."  
  
Fred and George breathed a sigh of relief, which made Harry blush again. "Then I'll stay tonight, so you don't have to listen," he said shyly, then glanced from Fred to George and back again. "If that's still all right?"

"We are so up for it you wouldn't believe," said George with a grin and a nudge.

"I think it would be wisest," said Snape. "And I will make sure to teach you a variety of silencing spells and simple wards as soon as we begin your summer lessons."

That made them all laugh, and the strange tension seemed, if not to break, then at least to stretch enough to allow for the return of their earlier camaraderie. Harry's body began to thrum with a different kind of tension as the meal progressed and the hour of their liaison grew closer. He found himself out of food, and got up to get a glass of milk from the refrigerator, just to give his hands something to do. Snape also seemed to grow more tense, and Harry ached with indecision and longing.

He wanted this badly, his body singing with the need to touch and be touched, and he honestly didn't know if he'd manage to keep his hands off Snape if he didn't take the edge off somehow. But at the same time, despite his easy attraction to the twins and the simple friendship they offered, he deeply regretted that anything they might do would cause Severus any amount of discomfort. By the time the three men had finished up, Harry had tied himself in knots.

Finally, Snape stood, brushing crumbs off his robes with those long-fingered hands that Harry so admired, and Harry came to a decision. He'd take their advice and their offer, and learn what he could from Fred and George, but he'd make sure that Snape knew who was first in his heart before he left. Harry waited for Snape to make his farewells to Fred and George, hanging back in the kitchen and fiddling with the dirty dishes as the three men kissed goodbye with a kind of desperately intense passion.

Just as Snape was about to go, Harry came out and took him into the darkened hallway. He whispered softly, "I know we're not supposed to do this, but I need you to understand that there's a reason it was you I was dreaming of, even with my head in someone else's lap." Then he cupped Snape's face in his hands and drew him down for a kiss, putting everything he felt, all his frustrated longing and newfound caring into it as best he knew how.

Snape stood stiffly at first, but gave in soon enough, opening his mouth with a soft moan of surrender and allowing Harry's tongue to venture inside. Harry knew he wasn't experienced or talented the same way Fred and George were, but he was sincere in his affections, and he hoped it showed. Snape's hands wrapped around Harry's waist, pulling him close until he could feel the heat between them, Snape's cock hard against his belly, his thigh a delicious pressure against Harry's own erection.

When they broke, they were both gasping, and Harry was closer than he'd ever been to coming without actually going over the edge. "I wish it could be you, Severus," he said softly, pulling away with reluctance.

"Knowing that makes it tolerable," said Snape quietly, smoothing a hand over Harry's flushed cheek. "I would stay if I could, but the Headmaster is, as usual, aware of the situation and has given me very specific instructions. I cannot see to this part of your education."

"Meddling old fool," said Harry affectionately, unable to muster up the anger he thought he should feel at being denied his heart's desire. "I suppose he's properly authorised you to hand my cherry over to the twins?"

Snape laughed, deep and low and sexy. "As a matter of fact, yes."

Harry blushed, some of his ardor cooling at the thought of Dumbledore and Snape discussing his future sex life over tea. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"I would be very angry, were I you," said Snape, "but I can only assure you that he does have your best interests at heart. The twins will care for you with gentle humour and great kindness. I am a volatile man, and cruel even when I do not mean to be. Your innocence will do well in their hands, where I might not handle you with the sensitivity you deserve."

"That's..." Harry trailed off. It was bizarre, but strangely touching, that Snape would be concerned enough about Harry's welfare and honest enough with himself to realise that he wasn't right for the task, and willing to hand it to another. "I think I could love you," said Harry at last, chest tight.

"That is exactly what I am afraid of," said Snape wonderingly. There was a long pause, the sound of their breathing loud in the tiny hallway. "But we _will_ be given a chance to find out," he growled, capturing Harry's mouth for a final, punishing kiss. The promise he fed to Harry with lips and tongue and teeth was very clear, and it made Harry's heart race with fear and desire. Snape would have him, someday, and it seemed that Harry had best be prepared when the time came.

It was Harry who broke the kiss this time, body aching from the need to finish. "You'd better stop if you don't want me to come," he ground out, dropping his forehead to Snape's shoulder.

"Do not tempt me further," said Snape roughly, pushing Harry away with a corresponding gentleness. "I will see you in a few hours, during which I will attempt to convince my prick that my hand is as good as yours," he said, eyes glinting in the darkness. "And after tonight, we will speak no more of kissing until you have left school."

Snape's voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper across Harry's taut nerves. He was quivering with the strain of holding himself together, biting his lip to keep from falling on Snape like a ravening beast. "Yes, Severus," he whispered, words like a promise on the night air.

Snape turned and left, his steps receding swiftly down the stairs as Harry struggled to pull himself together.

"All right, Harry?" said Fred's voice from the brightly lit living room.

"Yes, just... just give me a minute, all right?" he answered, pressing his palms and forehead against the cool plaster of the wall. Down, down, down, he chanted in his thoughts, willing himself to become calm, cool, and collected.

When he got himself as close as he thought was humanly possible, given the situation, he squared his shoulders and headed back for the living room. "Right. So, what's first, anyway?" he asked, voice gone slightly breathy at the sight before him.

Fred had shed his shirt and shoes and was straddling George's lap on the couch, the two of them entwined in a kiss like an erotic mirror image, all red hair and freckles, strong hands and wide shoulders. They turned to look at him, lips swollen and eyes bright with lust. "Bedroom," said George huskily, and Fred climbed off his lap and held a hand out to Harry.

"Remember," said Fred gently, pulling Harry back out into the hallway and towards the door on the right, the one that was definitely not the bathroom. "We'll only go as far as you're comfortable with. For now, we thought just hands. Nothing but hands and touching and kissing."

Harry nodded, breath caught in his throat. This was it, he was about to be brought off by another man. Two other men, gorgeous ones, and then they'd let him get them off too, maybe even get a taste if he was lucky, or see one red mouth filled with the other's cock. The tension in him was mounting again, and he said, "At this point, just looking is about to make me come, so I'm pretty much open for anything."

George came up behind him and wrapped him up in an embrace that was swiftly coming to mean safety and caring to Harry, and they all sort of fell through the door into the dim little bedroom. There was a wide, unmade bed, a dresser and wardrobe and some dirty clothing scattered about, and Fred stripping to reveal the freckles on his right hip, the strong curve of his thighs and the way his cock, as large as hinted, curved ever so slightly to the left.

Harry allowed himself to be divested of his clothing as well, mesmerised by his first sight of another naked man. As soon as he was nude himself, he stepped forward, hands itching to feel all that skin. "Is it all right if I touch you?" he asked, not shy precisely but unwilling to do anything at all that might spoil the moment.

Fred laughed, a little strangled, and said, "God, I hope so."

There was a rustle of cloth behind him that Harry ignored in favor running his hands over Fred's chest, finding the hair there coarse and sparse, the skin beneath hot and smooth and everything he'd hoped for. He ran a thumb over one pebbled nipple almost the exact colour of the freckles on the collarbone above it, then bent to taste when his action drew a gasp from Fred. The skin was salty and a bit sweet, and metallic in a way he hadn't thought to expect, with a hint of musk and sweat.

"Come to bed," said George, already on the far side, displaying his nakedness shamelessly. He was as big as Fred in every way, cock straighter even than Harry's, and had freckles on both hips and even across his cobbled abdomen. Harry allowed himself to be guided over to the bed and laid down between them, his hands continuing their exploration, this time on George's body, as though they'd never been interrupted.

Fred curled up behind him, long form pressing skin to Harry's back and legs, better than silk or crisp clean sheets, the best feeling in the world. Harry let his head drop back onto Fred's chest, moved until he could feel the heavy slide of Fred's cock along his cleft. He cupped George's hips in his hands, loving the way they felt, so wide and solid, the points caressing the center of his palms, the hollows perfectly cradling the heels of his hands. Everything warm and warmer, hot where a hand wrapped itself around his cock, where breath blew over his ear.

"Come for us, Harry," said a voice on the edge of his perception, as one red head dipped in to nuzzle at Harry's neck and the other rubbed a cheek against his flushed and sweaty one. The hand stroked him in long, lazy glides of flesh against flesh, pulling the foreskin forward and back, the palm callused and perfect on the sensitive skin. Harry had already been close, so close so many times today, that all it took was a single slide of a thumb over his leaking tip to set the fireworks off in his belly and brain.

He arched against them, shoulders digging into Fred's chest and hips thrusting towards George's thighs, crying out wordlessly as he spilled onto sheets and stomachs and hands. He felt like it went on forever, the hand continuing its gentle stroking until long past the time he would have thought to stop, drawing out pulse after pulse of pure, sweet pleasure. When he came down from the high, he sagged against them both, drawn into a tight embrace between them heedless of their own unfulfilled desire or the wet mess of his spent lust.

He snuggled into them for a drifting time, until the spunk had cooled to uncomfortable rather than sexy and they all began to grow restless for another go, himself included. A quick spell from George, who'd kept his wand on the bedside table, and they were cleaned up and ready for a second round. The wand and Harry's glasses went back on the table, and this time they let Harry set the pace, wordlessly offering themselves up for his curiosity, two bodies so similar and yet, in the most important details, so very different.

They were patient with him as he tasted Fred's freckled hip, and then the other just for comparison. They gasped in appreciation when he shyly explored George's thighs, the crisp hairs that grew damp with sweat and musk as he got close to their juncture, not quite brave enough to send curious fingers back to the secret hidden behind red-furred balls. They kissed what they could reach, each other and him, and finally moaned when he wrapped a tentative hand around a cock, George's this time, not so much thicker than his own but longer by enough to make him blush again.

Fred curled himself up behind Harry, who was kneeling between George's raised knees, his curious hand seeming tiny against the larger body. "Try using both hands," whispered Fred in his ear. George was already beyond speech, merely spreading himself wider in supplication.

Harry did that, fist over fist, hand closing easily over the top of George's cock this way. He slid a thumb through the wetness of precome and was rewarded with a moan and thrust from George. "Now just hold still and let him move through your grip," said Fred in a hot burst of air against Harry's ear. It was followed by the wet swipe of Fred's tongue, and he almost missed it when George began to thrust himself up into Harry's hands, fucking them like a lover.

Harry moaned at that thought, that he had a lover now, two of them, Fred's cock hot where it pressed into the small of his back. "Do you want to do me like that, too?" whispered Fred, barely audible over the chorus of George's moans. His hands began to wander over Harry's body, up his thighs, down his sides, ghosting over nipples and cock but never quite enough to distract him from the solid feel of George in his hands. "Do you want to stroke my cock until I come all over your hands?"

Fred's hips were moving now, too, prick sliding in the little hollow of Harry's back, the base nestling in the top of his cleft. A wet slickness spread over his spine, sweat and excitement, and he moaned softly, higher and breathier than George's deep groans. Harry's hands, too, had grown slick with fluid, and George's hips were moving faster, his balls tightening in a way Harry found fascinating. He'd never paid much attention to the way his own moved, but there was something unbearably erotic in watching George's body visibly react to what Harry was doing to him.

"Or I could just rub myself off right here, my cock so close to your little virgin hole, coat your back with come while you get my brother off," Fred continued, between nibbles on Harry's ear and neck. The words were like oil on a fire, setting Harry's mind ablaze with dirty images and ideas. "I could move so that I'm sliding over it, you know, stroking over your hole, tormenting you with my cock the way you've teased me all day."

Harry bit his lip to keep from whimpering, fists tightening involuntarily on George's cock. George cried out sharply, snapping his hips upwards, and Harry did it again, on purpose this time. He rubbed his thumb over the little slit at the tip, watching the fluid well up, first clear and then a gush of pearly white as George growled and came. The second spurt traveled high, hitting Harry in the cheek where he'd bent over to see, and the rest he deliberately took on his face, enjoying the hot rain of it.

His leaning forward changed the angle of Fred's thrusts as well, exposing his hole to the rasp of crisp hairs and the slide of hot flesh against him. Despite his earlier thoughts and his deep-seated knowledge that he wasn't at all ready for this even if he wasn't saving it, a part of him wanted to beg to be taken, fucked dry just like this, just for the feeling of belonging to someone. "God, you're so perfect," said Fred softly, as Harry lay his sticky cheek down on George's hip, eyes open and staring at the rapidly softening cock.

He'd just stroked someone else off. George. He'd just stroked off George Weasley, was wearing the twin's come on his face, and he was harder than he could ever remember being. He wanted to come himself, wanted to get Fred off, wanted to get George hard again so he could do it all over. Fred's cock changed angles suddenly, making him gasp as Fred leaned in over him, prick nestled between Harry's thighs, the head now nudging at his balls from behind. "Can I come like this, Harry, do you want me to?" he murmured, voice strained in Harry's ear.

"Yes," said Harry softly, his own cock not quite able to rub against anything enough to get him off, too. "Please," he added, as Fred began to slide along him, nudging and stroking things Harry had only recently discovered wanted touching at all. The feeling was so new, so perfectly, blazingly sexual, that he could only gasp and lie there, take it, comforted by George's hand stroking his messy hair, by Fred's now-incoherent stream of dirty words in his ear.

Fred's thrusts became faster, and Harry wished he could see Fred's face, as he had been too distracted to watch George's, too intent on the cock in his hands instead, the first one he'd ever touched that wasn't his own. He buried his face in the musky, damp curls at George's groin to muffle his own high, needy whine, as the words spilling from Fred's lips ignited whole new pathways in his brain.

Fred stilled briefly, his cock pulsing wetly between Harry's legs for a long, hot moment before he gave a few more ragged thrusts and collapsed on top of Harry and George. "That was bloody brilliant," said Fred softly, making Harry grin. He'd been talking so filthily just moments ago, and now he sounded fifteen again, reminding Harry of the years in which they'd been nothing more than friends.

"Don't forget our Harry," said George with a soft, loving smile. "He deserves to get off again for being so accommodating, after all."

"Just let me catch my breath," said Fred, rolling off of them and splaying onto his back on the other side of the bed, feet hanging off the edge.

"How about you watch, and I'll do," said George wickedly, giving Harry a gentle nudge to sit up. Harry complied, still a bit lost in the haze of lust and accomplishment. He'd gotten these two beautiful men off. He, Harry Potter, was responsible for two obviously quite acceptable orgasms, neither of which were his own. He was, he realized as George licked at the come still glistening on his lips, grinning like an idiot.

They shared a messy, bitter-salt kiss, then George got him giggling when he licked the rest of Harry's face clean like a big puppy, all warm and wet and affectionate. Then George scooted them both up the bed, manhandling Harry like he weighed nothing at all until he was sitting in George's lap, the twin's spent cock nestled beneath his arse and his back resting comfortable against the broad chest. "Put your arms around my neck, love, and spread your legs," said George in his ear.

Harry did as he was asked, bringing up his knees and spreading wide, all shame forgotten in the heady rush of actual sex. Fred recovered enough at that to lie across the foot of the bed, head propped on one hand, face intently lustful as his eyes raked over Harry's lithe form like a caress. George's big hands roamed over his whole body, sliding inside his thighs, cupping his cock and balls, teasing at his nipples until he moaned and writhed.

He could feel George growing beneath him, the soft velvet unfolding into hard steel and pressing in the same places Fred's cock had so recently occupied. Fred, too, was starting to recover, slower than his brother, like watching film of a flower blooming in high speed. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it, watching it unfold from small to large in fits and starts, pulse visible in the sway of it.

His own cock was begging for attention now, desperate for the touch of hands that seemed to sense what it wanted, and thus were now staying away. When he made to move his hand down and stroke it himself, George stopped him and said gently, "Trust me, love. Leave your hands where they are."

Harry nodded, settling back, deliberately rubbing his arse over George's stiff prick in a kind of revenge. He was rewarded for his efforts when one of those hands cupped his balls, fingers trailing behind to rub deliberately over the opening that his cock had only grazed in passing. Harry gasped and spread wider, letting his eyes close and head fall back against George's collarbone, drawing his knees up and displaying himself to Fred with eager abandon.

"Lovely," said Fred in response, and George echoed it with a soft, "Mmm," in Harry's ear.

Harry couldn't formulate a response, he only knew that he wanted, desperately, something, anything. His nipples were pinched, one then the other in spikes of pain so slight they were another pleasure, back and forth while that maddening finger rubbed gentle, undemanding circles against his entrance. George's palm caressed his balls in the same slow rhythm, the heel of George's hand pressing against the base of Harry's cock just enough to keep him from getting anywhere close to coming.

"You're torturing me!" said Harry in a needy whimper, rocking his hips back and forth in the valiant hope that his cock would eventually come in contact with something, anything to rub himself off against. He was a mass of need and want, nothing more than tingling nerves and shameless desperation, and he whimpered and moaned and, finally, begged. "Please, George, I need to come. Fred, please, help me, please, I'm so hot, I need it, please!"

"If I never have sex again, I'll have wank material for my entire life just from watching this," said Fred, his voice rough. "And I'm certainly not one to interrupt another man's pleasure."

"George, please, let me come, ohgod, oh please," Harry begged, heedless of anything beyond those tormenting hands and Fred's refusal to help him. The finger on his hole grew firmer, more insistent, pressing instead of caressing, dipping in tiny thrusts instead of circling. "Fuck me, yes, please, anything, just get me off," babbled Harry, his pleas growing more and more desperate.

"Your cherry's safe for tonight," whispered George in his ear, working the fingertip into Harry's body. "I just want to feel how tight you are when you come." Rather than going deeper as Harry expected, he finally left off tormenting Harry's nipples and wrapped that huge hand around Harry's cock instead. Harry thrust himself, first down and then up, finger and fist in a delicious circle of pleasure, spurting all over George's hand as he finally found his release.

"If you're always like this," said Fred, his voice hoarse with lust and shockingly close to Harry's other ear, "then it's a good thing that you're among friends, Harry."

"Trust you," Harry replied, still panting from his climax. "You'd never hurt me. Anyway, Snape'd kill you."

The twins both snickered at that, and Harry opened his eyes to see the joy and affection shining in Fred's face. He turned enough to find an answering light in George's eyes, and then planted a kiss on Fred's laughing mouth. He'd had a lot of hands and pricks tonight, but not nearly enough of kissing, and he thought he might manage to get hard a third time just from this, the sweet slide of tongues, the insistent press of George's erection against his arse and Fred's cock pushing into the soft flesh of his stomach.

George's mouth joined with theirs in a messy three-way tangle of tongues and spit and lips and teeth, completely pornographic in the best possible way. They all gasped when George's hand wrapped itself around Fred's prick and began a gentle motion that Harry echoed with a slow rocking of his own hips against George's cock. They all moaned, still passing kisses from mouth to mouth, hands caressing over skin heedless of who it belonged to.

Harry caressed Fred's side, sliding down until he reached the smoothness of his own thigh, the skin there somehow finer and tighter, but less satisfying to his hand. He went instead to touching George's thigh, his arm, Fred's nipples and navel, all the little dips and hollows of his chest and shoulders. They grew intent on one another, kissing desperately over Harry, their hands staying more and more on each other until Harry felt like a strange voyeur.

He slid sideways, suppressing a shiver as he left the cocoon of warmth and comfort they'd held him in, and just sat and watched. Their cocks came together, aligning as each wrapped a fist around both thick lengths, hips moving in easy rhythm that bespoke long familiarity. Their motions, their kisses, every gesture showed the affection they held for each other, and Harry suddenly understood Snape's earlier words: there could be no wrong where love was so perfectly right.

Feeling a bit like an intruder but unable to resist the temptation, Harry ran a gentle hand down Fred's sweat-slicked side, leaned in and ran a trail of kisses over George's silently moving jaw. They were panting, breath harsh in the silence of the room, and the poetry of hips and hands was obviously reaching its climax. Harry ran a curious finger over the tip of first one cock then the other, garnering a pair of low moans for his trouble. Then he leaned back on his heels as everything sped up, content for the opportunity to simply see.

George threw his head back first, face transported from its usual cheerful grin into beautiful ecstasy, red hair darkened to tarnished copper with the sweat of his exertions. "Fred!" he cried quietly, a hitching, gasping cry, as his seed spilled over them, splattering their chests with shining white.

"George," Fred moaned, low in his throat, leaning his forehead on his brother's shoulder. His hips jerked, his hand spasming closed and his own seed pulsing out thick and wet over their fists. He, too, was transformed by his pleasure, face filled with the light of love and pure, simple joy.

They sat there, panting and totally absorbed in each other, while Harry fisted his own cock thoughtfully. He wasn't quite all the way hard, nor anything like as needy as he'd been earlier, and he blushed now at the thought of himself like that, spread and wanton in George's lap, begging for him or Fred or really any random passerby to get him off. Given that he had, not once but twice, been quite willing to allow just about anything once they'd gotten him hot enough, he felt suddenly very lucky.

He wondered if something very much like that had happened to Snape, although he couldn't begin to imagine the reserved Potions master acting half so abandoned. He was distracted from his musings when Fred's voice said amusingly, "What have we here?"

Harry looked up to find them still entwined, heads together, equal looks of lust and mischief on their faces. Like this they were nearly identical, mussed and well-loved, sweat and come slick on their freckled bodies making them seem magical incubi, creatures created for only this one purpose. His hand moved faster, stroking himself, cheeks flushing with desire and a vague sense that it wasn't quite kosher to be doing this in front of one's lovers on the first go but not quite caring as the passion built slowly in his gut.

He could always get a lecture from Snape later for his terrible breach of etiquette, he thought with a strange dark humour. "You two are perfect together," he said, licking lips still faintly tangy with George's seed.

"You're like porcelain," said Fred softly, in that same low growl he'd used earlier. "Every line a work of art, your thighs and hips, arms and chest, your Seeker's hands and your sweet innocent mouth that just begs to be shown the path of sin."

Harry moaned, and George nibbled idly on Fred's ear, his eyes going dark and wicked as he picked up the thread. "Your cock fits in my hand like it was meant to be there, and your arse is the temptation that no saint could resist, tight and perfect and just begging to be defiled."

Harry's hand sped up at this, cheeks burning impossibly hotter at the thought that they'd seen him begging like that, pleading to be fucked. "Your little hole is pink and wrinkled and perfect, just the place for a tongue or a finger to linger for hours until you're crying out for mercy, for fucking, for anything at all," said Fred, hands smoothing up and down his brother's flank as he spoke.

"You enjoyed him watching, didn't you?" asked George, pausing for a slow, hot kiss before he continued. "You loved knowing that someone could see you being the slut, see you giving it all up for the sake of a few moments' pleasure. You loved showing yourself off to my brother, making him all hot and bothered."

"Yesss," hissed Harry, feeling that telltale tingle around the edges. He felt like a slut, just then, hungry for cock, in his arse, his mouth, his hand, hungry for spunk and spit and hot, wet kisses. "But you took care of me."

"One of these days, you'll learn to take us all the way down, suck our cocks, one and the other until your belly is full of spunk and you can't remember who you've done last or why it matters," said Fred, gasping when his brother bit his neck, leaving a livid pink mark.

"Or you'll feed us your cock, instead, twin mouths fighting over the chance to take you down, to drink your sweet seed," said George, licking their come off his hand with deliberate relish.

Harry moaned, their words propelling him faster than his hand could ever have done on a third round, making his toes tingle and his hair stand on end. His skin felt electric, taut and vibrating with need. "So close," he whimpered, watching the twins in another of those soul-sharing kisses.

Suddenly, they turned and pounced, one on either side and two deft hands closing over his cock and balls, Fred's fingers teasing down between his legs as George took over stroking him. "Someday it'll be Severus here instead of us, sliding those long, thin fingers over your cock and whispering things in your ear you never though you'd hear come out of that elegant mouth," whispered Fred, breath hot on his ear.

"Someday soon it'll be us with Severus, hands that've touched you will get to touch him, feel his skin, stroke his cock, finger his arse," said George, and Harry's whole body tensed up, waiting for something.

"Maybe, someday, we'll all three get to fuck you, one after the other until you can't remember your own name let alone whose cock is in you, you're so used and spent," said Fred, finger sliding to the first knuckle in Harry's grasping hole. The unexpected pleasure of it, combined with the image of them all three taking him, sent Harry over the edge. He came one last time, a wash of shining pleasure and few halfhearted spurts wringing him out until he was limp and exhausted.

"I think he likes that idea," said George, voice filled with amusement, desire and soft affection.

"I think he likes my finger in his arse," said Fred, wriggling the digit in question and wrenching a moan out of Harry. "See?"

"I think I like it all," said Harry weakly, leaning his head on George's chest and resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at Fred's grinning face. "And I also think I need a shower."

George took a glance at the clock and grimaced. "No time, we've been at this for over two hours already. How about a cleaning charm and a bath when you get back?"

"Will it get me more kissing?" said Harry, giving all appearance of serious thought.

George and Fred both grinned. "Imp," said Fred, leaning in to bestow the first of the requested kisses.

George cast cleaning charms on all of them, then took over Harry's mouth so Fred could sort out their clothes. Once Fred was dressed, he went back to kissing Harry so George could clothe himself, and then they both put on Harry's shirt and trousers like he was a child, ending with his glasses. Neither of them would admit to having any idea where his old, worn pants had got to, so Harry discovered the joy of going commando in jeans when your prick was feeling extremely sensitive.

The kissing, he felt, more than made up for the uncomfortable walk.


	7. Exploration and Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a bath and a bedtime story, of sorts.

Severus was sitting peacefully on the bed, his hair curling wet around the shoulders of a soft sage-green nightshirt. The bare feet resting on top of the worn quilt threatened to grab Harry's entire attention as soon as the door opened, but he was saved by the twins crowding in behind him. "Signed, sealed, and delivered as ordered, sir!" said Fred with a mock salute.

"Although you might want to wash him up before you put him away," added George with a leer.

"In fact, how about I just get you settled in the bath, Harry?" said Fred, leading him to the tiny bathroom. "George, you'll bring his pyjamas in, won't you?"

"That I will, my dear brother," George replied, his tone jaunty and mischievous.

After they closed the door, Fred started the tub filling noisily and said, "I know this is kind of rude, but we felt that Severus needed to know about how... responsive you are. Because it could get you in trouble later, if you were with someone that isn't one of us."

Harry blushed, remembering his own voice pleading to be fucked, and the thrill of desire he'd gotten when Fred called him a slut. He nodded, though, saying, "It's bloody mortifying, but he probably ought to know."

Fred tested the bath for warmth, then smiled lasciviously and reached out to divest Harry of his clothing for the second time that night. "It's good to see you trusting someone," he said as Harry slid gratefully into the warm water. "Especially him."

Despite the cleaning charms, Harry still felt a bit sticky, and kept expecting to reach up and find come drying in odd places. He ducked briefly under the surface, deliberately getting Fred wet when he shook the water out of his eyes. "It's hard, you know. Trusting," said Harry softly, looking around for shampoo or hair potion. He spotted Severus' bottles on the sink and said with a grin, "Pass me those, will you? I don't have any of my own."

"Let me make sure they're things you can use first?" said Fred dubiously. "I'll bring in your flannel and pyjamas as well." Harry shrugged and nodded, relaxing into the water and deliberately letting his knees drift apart. "Tease." Fred shook his head and took the bottles out into the main room, closing the door carefully behind him.

Harry lounged in the water, trying not to feel as though the adults were talking about him behind his back. Fred and George were only two years older than him, but it had seemed like a whole different world in the cosy little flat above their very own store. Harry was still a schoolboy, still being sheltered and coddled and, lest we forget, trained for murder. He sighed and tried to shake off the self-pity, drawing on the memories of Fred and George and their hands on his body.

He was too spent to get much of a reaction, physically, but he let his fingers trail over his body, the water ghosting over his skin in a silken caress in their wake. His nipples were slightly sore and very sensitive, sending little jolts of pleasure straight to his balls when he flicked his thumbs over them, remembering George's careful torment. He let his hands trail down between his thighs, a finger circling around his hole. He'd had another man's finger there tonight, two men, in fact, touching his most private place.

His cock twitched a little, growing thicker but still soft, floating a bit in the warm bath. He'd had sex tonight, real sex with two handsome men who thought he was worth touching, who thought he was worth spending the time to be careful with, considerate of. A far cry from being kept in a cupboard, Fred and George had treated him tenderly, but more than that, they'd used him well, giving him everything they thought he could take. They might've held back because of his inexperience, but they hadn't treated him at all like a child; he'd been an equal in their bed, in pleasure if not in the love they shared between them.

Harry worked a fingertip into himself, remembering the feel of George tormenting him, of Fred's thick finger sliding up to the knuckle, making him come. He leaned back against the tub, arching his hips, sliding in and out with the utmost care. He'd need soap for more than just this single finger, and that barely halfway in, but this wasn't about coming as much as touching anyway, reacquainting himself with his body after losing some small portion of his purity.

He opened his eyes at the gasp from the doorway, George's face gratifyingly flushed with lust at the sight of him. "Lucky thing Severus didn't bring these in," said George lightly, tossing Harry's flannel at him and setting the pyjamas more carefully on the counter. He set two of the bottles within reach of the tub, explaining, "This one is shampooing potion, and this is a body washing potion." His eyes flickered to Harry's hands, stilled in their provocative positions.

"All right," said Harry with a slow, sweet smile. "You know," he added, reaching for the body potion with his free hand, "That look on your face could give a bloke the idea he was attractive."

Harry pulled his finger reluctantly away, then poured some of the soap into his hand. It smelled softly of cleanliness and vanilla, with a strange hint of cloves and wild things. He got his fingers nice and slick, then lifted his hips nearly out of the water and slid one inside himself with a sigh. George's eyes were wide and dark, and his hands were gripping the edge of the sink until the knuckles went white.

"You know you are," said George softly, voice strained.

Harry was almost fully erect now, a deep ache in his balls telling him that he probably wouldn't come a fourth time regardless. "No, actually," said Harry, fucking himself on that finger, adding a second when he found himself relaxed enough. "I've never thought so."

He slid the fingers deep, his other hand braced on the edge of the tub, watching the play of lust over George's features as he tried to formulate a response. "You've never..." George trailed off as Harry bit his lip, brushing lightly over that place deep inside. George shook himself, then said more strongly, "How many boys your age do you think have three grown men making fools of themselves over him?"

Harry might've answered, but a knock at the door startled him into a much stronger jolt against his prostate, and he cried out wordlessly instead, body tightening with pleasure. "Er, George?" said Fred's voice through the door.

"Yes, Fred?" George replied, eyes never leaving Harry.

"Severus would like to talk to us both if you're not, er, busy." Fred's voice sounded faintly disapproving, and Harry felt a twinge of guilt.

"He's just watching," called Harry, his voice a bit hoarse. "You're welcome to join him."

The door opened carefully, and Fred's head peeked around it, eyes going wide as he caught sight of Harry, still fingering himself in the tub. Harry deliberately stroked his gland, sending sparks through his body and a soft cry of pleasure from his lips, then pulled his fingers out and relaxed. "Go on. I promise I'll be good and wash up and stop distracting you," he said with a little mischievous smile.

"We've created a monster," said George, shaking his head as he followed Fred out. They closed the door behind them, and Harry grinned to himself. He hoped Snape had enjoyed the noises as well; although he planned on being good and not tempting Snape overmuch during the next year, he'd wanted to get in a last little dig before the silencing spells went up and his chance would be gone.

His erection was already wilting again without the extra stimulation, so he hurried up with the business of washing, the splashing masking any conversation that he probably didn't want to hear anyway. It was one thing to know someone had your best interests at heart, and quite another to listen to them discuss what a wanton slut you'd become at the first sight of cock. He concentrated instead on the spicy bergamot scent of the shampoo and the way it blended seamlessly with the body wash, on getting the last vestiges of sweat and come off his body, on the soothing feeling of warm water against his still-sensitive skin.

He let the tub drain and dried himself on the towel they'd provided with the room, brushed his teeth and said a quick drying spell over his flannel so he wouldn't forget it, then slipped into his old, worn pyjamas. He'd forgotten to get new ones, but he could stand these until their second trip to Diagon Alley at the end of the summer. Or maybe he could get the twins to buy him some, although he might end up with a pair that had an alarm when you got an erection, or were covered in little fluffy kittens, or something.

"I'm coming out," he announced to no one in particular, emerging to find Fred and George sitting on his bed, and all eyes on him. "I hope you've done discussing what's to be done to keep me from endangering myself in my childish ignorance, or whatever," he said, a bit spitefully. He suddenly found it somewhat tiresome that they were willing to shag him, but not talk about it in front of him.

"I believe that they meant only to spare you the embarrassment of having your... specific exploits... discussed with an uninvolved fourth party," said Snape carefully. "I assure you that you and I will be having a private conversation of our own, as soon as they have gone."

"Oh," said Harry, feeling a bit foolish. "Sorry, it's just that..."

"You are used to being left ignorant of important facts about your life, and having decisions made for you on the basis of those facts," Snape finished for him, voice heavy with disapproval. "I will not keep you in the dark in this, Harry, even it if means having conversations outside the boundaries of strict propriety."

"Thank you," he said, putting his dirty things away in his trunk thoughtfully.

"We're gonna go, and let you two talk, all right, Harry?" said Fred, standing up and looking a touch... reluctant? Something, Harry thought, that he'd have to explore later.

"Can I have goodbye kisses, or will that offend your sense of dignity, Severus?" Harry asked, an impish smile taking the edge of his words.

"I believe," said Snape, standing carefully so as not to flash any of them any more leg beneath his nightshirt than was absolutely necessary, "That we may all enjoy the benefits of a fond farewell."

Harry smiled at the memory of the last time he himself had used those words, after his first real kiss with Snape. Fred pulled Harry into his arms, and George walked around them to similarly embrace Snape. The kiss this time was sweet and affectionate, and Harry almost checked to make sure he hadn't gotten the twins mixed up when Fred whispered in his ear, "Next time, George gets to watch while _I_ make you beg."

A shiver of desire went through Harry and he pressed his smaller form into Fred's embrace for a long moment until it passed. "You're the teachers," he said softly, "Who am I to argue with the curriculum?"

Snape and Fred were already separated when Harry parted from George, and he got another little frisson of desire as they switched partners. George's kiss was deep and full of unspoken meaning, things that Harry didn't understand but warmed him to his toes. "Be good, love," he said gently, squeezing Harry until his breath left him, then planting a final kiss on top of his damp hair.

When Harry looked over, Fred's hand had cupped Snape's face gently, their lips moving over one another with affection and obvious desire. When the kiss broke, they rested their foreheads together and Snape murmured, "Anticipation makes it sweeter."

"Just as long as you don't kill yourself with it," Fred replied, giving Snape a final peck before they parted completely. "We'll be by soon enough."

"You know when I am free, and Harry as well," said Snape, voice rich and low.

"You're next," said George, moving away from Harry and slinging an arm around his brother. "All right, well, Fred's next. But Harry's had his turn, and we've waited a long time to have you, so no backing out now."

Snape's eyes swept over their forms, lust filling them. He gave a small smile and said, "I have no intention of reneging before I have even tasted of your bounty."

"Y'hear that Fred? We've got bounty," said George, eyes twinkling.

"C'mon George, let's go home. Harry's little show gave me some bounty I'd like to share with my brother." The twins both laughed at that, and walked out still tossing innuendo back and forth between snickers. The silence in the room seemed very thick as the door clicked shut behind them.

Snape broke the stillness by moving back to his narrow bed, and Harry noticed for the first time a glass of amber liquid burning with gentle blue fire on the nightstand. "How much have you drunk?" he asked, worried suddenly about Snape's uncharacteristically jovial air.

"A single sip, I assure you. It arrived while you were bathing, and I intend to use it to relax enough to sleep mere feet away from temptation," said Snape, a bit crossly.

"That's all right, then," said Harry with a smile. "I just didn't want to feel we'd taken advantage."

Snape sighed. "It is I who takes advantage of your naive willingness to flaunt convention."

"Bollocks," said Harry. "You've been the soul of discretion, for the most part."

Snape's mouth quirked up in an ironic little half-smile. "For the most part." He settled back against the pillows, strangely off-centre on the small bed. "I have noticed that you respond well to a comforting touch. I believe this next conversation will distress you quite a bit, and I am going to indulge us both by offering you the solace of an embrace for the duration." He patted the space beside him, then held his arm out, obviously making a space for Harry.

Harry practically jumped into the bed, cuddling eagerly against Snape's spare frame. "You will not fall asleep in my bed," he said sternly, reaching for the glass of firewhisky and taking a sip before adding, "and there will be no kissing."

"No kissing, no sleeping. Got it," Harry replied, carefully cataloging the feeling of lying in Snape's arms. Snape's body was all angles, sharp hipbones and knobby knees, slender legs and narrow waist. His shoulders were broad enough, but Harry could feel the ribs beneath his hands, reminding him far more of his own body than the twins' stocky ones, despite the height difference. He rested his head just beneath Snape's collarbone, hearing the heartbeat beneath his ear, soft and steady and just a touch fast.

"I do not normally share this story," said Snape, his voice tight, "And have not told it to anyone in many years. Fred and George do not know, and although you have my permission to discuss it with them, I will not."

Harry nodded, and Snape's hand rested itself on his shoulder gently. Harry took this as encouragement and slid his own arm over Snape's stomach, curving his palm around the sharp point of the opposite hip. He could just see the faint bump of Snape's quiescent prick beneath the nightshirt, and resisted the urge to rub his arm down and over it, unwilling to intrude on the fragile trust they were building.

"You and I have more in common that I could have guessed," Snape continued, voice barely above a murmur in the silent room. "When I first discovered the pleasures of the flesh, I was as easily controlled by my desires as you. Although before and after I was shy and unready, in the throes of passion I would do anything that was asked of me, allow anything to be done to me. The man who introduced me to these things took great advantage of this, goading me into acts which later caused me great distress."

Snape shifted uncomfortably, and his hand on Harry's shoulder tightened. "I was introduced to a group of unscrupulous people, mainly because my... paramour... paraded them through my bed, bringing sometimes as many as three or four other men in once I was past the point of protest. He would tie me to the bed and allow them to use me, making me beg for it, thus neatly avoiding any possible accusation of rape."

The fingers on Harry's shoulder were now tight enough to bruise, and Harry's eyes prickled with pain and sympathy. His chest was tight with emotion, his throat closed and breath shallow, both for the abused boy Severus had been and the fate he himself might have gone to, had he not had Snape, Fred and George looking out for him.

"Eventually they convinced me that I was as corrupt as they, drawing me further into their circle until I found my only possible course of action was to pledge myself to their Dark Lord as well." The last came out as almost a whisper, the pain in his voice strangling the words in Snape's throat.

"Oh, Severus," said Harry softly, fumbling for Snape's free hand, eyesight blurred with unshed tears. They held one another like that for a long time, breath hitching in something that wasn't quite sobs as they kept each other back from the brink. "Thank you for sharing this with me," Harry ventured, once he'd gotten his own emotions in check somewhat.

"You needed to know," said Severus, voice like gravel echoing through the thin chest. "That fate may yet await you at the hands of the Death Eaters, should they discover this weakness. I have enlisted the twins' aid in helping you overcome it."

"Who was it?" Harry asked, dreading the answer but unable to suppress his curiosity.

"He is dead now," said Snape, voice flat and final. "But every male Death Eater currently occupying the Dark Lord's inner circle has had use of my body in the past."

"And yet you still spy for us," said Harry wonderingly. "You go to those meetings and face them." He paused, feeling the stiffness in Snape's body, the tension running beneath the skin like too much electricity. "You're the bravest person I've ever known."

"It was long ago," scraped out Snape's voice, barely audible even in the silent room. "They know better than to try anything anymore."

"Did you... kill him?" said Harry quietly, unsure he wanted to know the answer, but needing to ask.

Snape nodded. "After I took the Mark, and the Dark Lord took his first turn in my bed, I finally found the strength. I was... respected, after that."

Harry shuddered. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like, to be the plaything of all the Death Eaters, to be raped by Voldemort. It was a wonder Snape wanted anything to do with sex at all, after such an introduction. "Was it always bad?"

Snape shook his head, face terribly blank. "It began with tenderness and seduction, all the things a young man yearns for, especially one such as I."

Harry buried his face in Snape's chest, hugging him close. "I'm very lucky, then, to know that I can trust you. That when you finally f-fuck me for the first time, it won't be like that."

"You will have developed some measure of self-control by then, one hopes," said Snape unsteadily, "and will find the sensations familiar rather than shockingly new."

Harry shook his head against Snape's chest. "I'm s-saving that for you. I'll do anything you want me to with the twins, but not that."

Snape suddenly softened beneath him, the tension leaving his lanky frame as he melted into Harry's embrace. "I... I think I would very much like that," he said softly. "My greatest regret in handing you over to them was the loss of that moment."

"Good," said Harry, holding Snape tight. He spent a long time just snuggled into Snape's embrace, listening to his heartbeat, smelling the hair and body potions on them both, Snape's laundry soap and the scent of his skin as well, feeling secure and, although it might be just an illusion, loved.

He felt himself starting to drift off to sleep, and, although he wanted very much to simply allow it to happen, refused to abuse Snape's trust in even the smallest way from this moment forward. The overwhelming effort it must have taken Snape, not only to tell the story, but to allow Harry to lie in his arms as he spoke of what must have been years of sexual abuse, it wasn't something that Harry took lightly. Instead, he let himself ask the other question that had been on his mind since Snape spoke. "How're they going to help me be less slutty?"

Snapes arms tightened dangerously. "Do not ever use that word in my presence again," he said darkly. "You are extremely responsive and naturally submissive, both of which are valuable qualities in a lover. They are going to teach you to suppress the submissive instinct and keep your responses from overwhelming your good sense, so that you will only surrender yourself to these instincts when you desire it so."

Harry shivered at the thought of surrendering completely to Snape, handing the keys to his body and soul over to the control of that velvet voice, those dexterous hands, the lean form making use of him however Snape wanted. "Tease," he said softly, glad that his body was too worn out to produce an inappropriate erection.

Snape laughed, the sound rich and heady, and dropped a kiss on top of Harry's head. "Off with you, now," he said with a gentle nudge. "If you're cheerful enough to be impudent, then you're ready for sleep."

Harry sat up, then captured Snape's eyes. "Thank you for telling me," he said seriously. "You didn't have to, I would've trusted you no matter what, but I'm glad you did."

Harry stood up and got in his own bed before Snape managed to find a proper response. He was just beginning to drift off when he heard the quiet, "You're welcome, Harry," drift over from Snape's side of the room. The clink of a glass being set down was followed by a gentle whisper of, "Nox," and then darkness, filled with the comforting sound of Snape's breathing. Harry fell asleep warm and comfortable, feeling quite possibly the most secure and happy he'd felt in his short lifetime.


	8. A Temporary Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Severus settle in to 12 Grimmauld Place.

Saturday morning turned out much less awkward than Harry had feared. When he awoke, Snape was up and stretching, the sunlight streaming in from the window illuminating every curve and plane of his body beneath the thin nightshirt, his chest and thighs, hips and sadly dormant prick. Harry's own prick jumped at the sight, already hard from the simple fact that he was sixteen and it was morning, and he doubted he'd make it to the bathroom without embarrassing one or both of them, probably himself.

Snape solved the problem by turning his attention his bag, deliberately busying himself with pulling out the day's clothing. "You may have first use of the restroom. I will clothe myself while you do so; kindly alert me when you intend to emerge."

"Right," said Harry, easing out of the bed and walking awkwardly to the loo, erection leading the way. Snape did not glance up, for which Harry was both grateful and oddly disappointed. "Thanks," he added, once he was safely shielded by the open door.

"You're welcome," said Snape. There was a half-heartbeat pause, during which Harry started closing the door. Just before it clicked shut, he heard Snape say with a quiet chuckle, "I shouldn't worry overmuch about my endowments if I were you."

Harry wasn't sure whether to be amused or irritated that he'd been caught, so instead he added to the heat in his cheeks by stroking himself through his pyjamas. His cock was still somewhat sensitive, unused to being handled by others, and he had to bite his lip to stifle a gasp when he slid his hand into his pyjama trousers. He pulled his erection out and stroked it carefully, visualising the way Snape might have looked with his nightshirt tented out, arousal pointing straight at Harry.

The fantasy was vivid enough that he found that fine edge very quickly, stopping to torment himself with it instead of simply rushing over like he usually did. He'd need to do this to himself, as well, if he was going to survive the twins' crash course in sexual torment, so he might as well get started now. He let the trousers slide off his hips and down, swirling a finger in his sleep-sticky mouth before reaching around behind to tease at his opening. It was awkward, standing, but that added a level of needed concentration that helped him hold back as he slowly eased the finger inside, a millimetre at a time.

He imagined Snape doing this to him, waking up not to the soft magical chime of the alarm clock but instead to Snape's hands roaming over his sleep-flushed form. Snape would get two fingers inside him before he even made the transition from erotic dream to delicious waking reality. Harry stroked himself gently, inside and out, leaning a hip against the counter and throwing his head back as he grew lightheaded from the pleasure. It didn't take long before his control broke and he was coming, mind full of images of Snape's slender hands, soft cries leaving his lips involuntarily as he spent himself on the tiles.

He was still panting, pants down, finger in his arse and cock in hand, when there was a knock on the door. "Harry, are you all right?" said Snape's voice, sharp and concerned.

Harry's flush went from desire to back to embarrassment in a heartbeat. He'd called out, oh Merlin, Snape's sodding name when he came. "Yes, Severus. I, er... could you grab my flannel out of my trunk for me?"

He usually just splashed a bit of water on his face with his hands in the mornings, but he needed some excuse for calling Snape's name, and that would do. "Of course, Harry," said Snape, his voice amused in a way that suggested he knew exactly what Harry had really been up to.

Harry quickly set himself to rights, washing his hands and straightening his pyjamas, cleaning off the floor and counter. He opened the door to Snape's polite knock and took his flannel, trying not to gape at the sight of Snape half-dressed. He'd got his trousers on, but his shirt hung loose and open, exposing his torso to Harry's hungry gaze. He had a scattering of crisp black hairs in the centre of a thin but muscular chest, going around his pink nipples and trailing down into the waistband of his pants. His stomach was thin but toned, the skin milk-pale from lack of sun. Long legs wrapped in black led down to the final damning detail, those lovely bare feet resting gracefully on the sun-warmed wooden floorboards.

Harry raised his eyes quickly when he realized he was staring, only to meet amusement and some small measure of lust in those dark eyes. "Th-thank you," Harry stammered, clutching at the small cloth to avoid the temptation to run his fingers and tongue down that path of hair. He'd never given a blowjob before, but a half-naked Snape was enough to inspire anyone to drop to their knees and give it their best effort.

"You are quite welcome. And I will most certainly teach you those silencing charms first thing," said Snape, turning back into the room, "as well as order myself some house-slippers, if we are to get any work done at all."

Harry blushed hotter, feeling as though his cheeks might spontaneously combust, and closed the door. He leaned against it, hitting his head none too gently against the rough wood, and sighed. Well, he knew it would be hard, dealing with that acid wit when he was busy being a fool in love. Harry stopped short at the sudden implications of that thought: was he really in love? He shrugged, pushing off from the door and grabbing his toothbrush. It wasn't like he could do much about it for quite some time, so there was no use dwelling.

Harry got another shock as he emerged from the bathroom -- he'd remembered to warn Snape before coming out, but totally forgotten that they were taking the Muggle Underground to Grimmauld Place. Instead of buttoning that lovely body away in layers of coat and robes, Snape was still in his shirtsleeves, much as he'd been on the night of their fateful chess game. He'd left the sleeves rolled lower than before, shielding the Dark Mark from curious eyes, and put elegant black dress shoes on his narrow feet.

He raised an eyebrow at Harry's expression, and Harry finally gave in to the urge to stick out his tongue at his professor. "I would not expose that unless you intend to put it to use, Mr. Potter," said Snape, his voice amused.

"Dirty old man," said Harry affectionately, unbuttoning his pyjama top in an intentional tease. He felt a lot better after washing up, refreshed and relaxed and strangely content to maybe be in love with his Potions master, even if it was to remain unrequited for many months to come.

"Quite," said Snape, his voice slightly hoarse as Harry dropped the shirt onto the rumpled bedspread.

He put his hands on his waistband, a warning and a dare, and said, "I'm changing now, whether you're in here or in there."

Snape gathered his wits and retreated, but not without a backwards glance at Harry as he slid the trousers down with agonizing slowness. The door clicked shut just as the elastic was slipping over his half-hard prick, and Harry grinned. That'd teach Snape to tease him about his weird foot thing. He dressed quickly after that, in fresh knickers and socks, yesterday's new jeans and trainers and one of Dudley's outgrown Smeltings t-shirts, which hung off him like it was a nightshirt.

Snape came out of the bathroom looking refreshed and slightly damp around the edges, his hair pulled back into a sleek tail that left his face exposed. Instead of accenting the flaws as one might expect, the severe style emphasized the strength of his other features: high cheekbones and elegantly arching brows, pointed chin and thin, supple mouth, all of which combined to make his prominent nose seem patrician rather than sinister. "That's a good look for you, Severus," said Harry, grinning.

Snape, who had been busy putting away his bath things, turned and noticed Harry's new clothing for the first time. "What on earth are you doing in that horrible shirt?"

Harry shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I don't have any of my new clothes here yet. It's what's clean."

Snape gave him a long look, then rummaged through his own bag. He drew out a somewhat rumpled white dress shirt and then, much to Harry's surprise, began to strip out of his own. "If it is not too objectionable, you may borrow this, and I will wear my extra shirt, as I don't expect you can successfully pull off a formal collar." Harry gaped at Snape's nude torso, the shoulders thin but straight, scars he hadn't noticed before pink and shiny against the white back, nipples hard and enticing despite the summer heat.

He tossed the shirt to Harry, who caught it reflexively, staring at it for about half a second before skinning out of the awful t-shirt. Harry pulled the sleeves on, fabric still slightly warm from Snape's body, and luxuriated in the scent that surrounded him. When he looked up, Snape was already buttoned up and saying a charm to smooth out wrinkles. His new shirt had a high, stiff collar, which somehow managed to look elegantly sexy on him, especially once he tucked it in and rolled up the sleeves. Rather than suggesting a businessman out of his suit, Snape now looked like an itinerant playboy the morning after a party, still in his formal clothing from the night before.

Harry didn't bother tucking Snape's shirt into his jeans, and he left the sleeves right where they were, falling most of the way down his forearms. He buttoned it, inhaling deeply, and grinned. He was wearing Snape's shirt. Which Snape had been wearing not five minutes ago. He felt light and distracted, happy in a way he never thought he'd be, at least not during his years at Hogwarts. "Thank you, Severus," he said quietly, running idle fingers over the fine fabric.

When he looked up, Snape was very still, his face a neutral mask pierced by intent black eyes. Harry froze, wondering what he'd done wrong and feeling a bit like a mouse caught in the gaze of a particularly intent falcon. They sat like that for longer than Harry thought possible, until sweat began to itch at the back of his neck from the sunbeam hitting it, and his legs started to ache from the awkward pose. "Er, Severus?" he said gently, shifting carefully out of the direct sun and sitting slowly on the edge of his bed.

Snape shook himself, running his hands over his face, and said hoarsely, "I..." Snape blinked, cleared his throat, then abruptly turned back to his packing. "We must go."

Harry finished securing his trunk, and Snape shrunk everything and pocketed it, then they dropped the key at the front desk and ventured out into London without further ado. The trip on the Underground was surprisingly easy, all things considered. He and Snape drew a lot of interesting looks from their fellow passengers, not because they looked magical, but because Harry couldn't quite bring himself not to invade Snape's personal space as much as Snape would allow -- a casual touch here, leaning close to listen there, standing between the seated man's legs and holding onto the bar when the train grew full.

Snape seemed content to allow Harry these small comforts, although Harry wondered how long the new intimacy would last. He wondered if Snape would allow him such liberties over the summer, and how things would change again once they were back at Hogwarts. Wondered if Dumbledore would see this new dynamic that set little old ladies to scowling their disapproval for sins that they had not, as of yet, had a chance to commit.

Harry's mind was full of these thoughts and others during the brisk walk to Headquarters, and he barely noticed the way the bright noonday sun filtered through the trees along the way. He stuck to the shadows, head aching from the swirl of unfamiliar thoughts and wishing for his new magical glasses to block out the light. It was extremely strange, somehow, to just walk right up to 12 Grimmauld Place, after all the fuss in previous years. The house didn't magically appear out of thin air or look at all out of the ordinary, and Snape simply stepped up to the front door and rang the bell.

Harry was curious what it looked like to the surrounding Muggles. Did they vanish from sight once they stepped into the shadow of the Black House? Did they, as far as observers were concerned, cease to have existed in the first place? Harry pondered idly how the Fidelius Charm really worked, if it altered people's memories or just their perceptions, and if it was the latter, why Bellatrix Lestrange didn't realize her cousins' home had dropped right off the map.

He shrugged, shaking off his pensive mood as the door opened to reveal, not Lupin as Harry had expected, but Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Remus had to leave last night in order to arrive before the moon," said Kingsley by way of a hello, stepping aside to let them into the house.

"Thank you, Shacklebolt," said Snape, his voice back to its usual unfriendly politeness. Harry wondered, just then, what Snape did with the warmth that he'd shown to Harry and the twins, how he managed to shove it all down inside and show only this coldness to the rest of the world, day in and day out. And, perhaps more importantly, why he bothered, at least with the other Order members.

"Ta, Kingsley!" said Harry, with a slightly rueful grin. Shacklebolt closed and locked the door behind them with a whisper of magic. The hall was much lighter than in previous visits, all of the previous furnishings disposed of and replaced with odd bits from secondhand shops. Mrs. Black's portrait was missing from the newly repainted wall, the sunny lemon yellow a strange contrast to Harry's memories of dirt, fading wallpaper and screams. "How'd you get her down?"

Kingsley gave a small cough and said quietly, "Remus destroyed her in a fit of rage. Had to replace the whole wall."

"Is the family tree gone, too?" asked Harry, peering curiously into the oddly bright rooms as they walked past. Most of them were empty, fresh paint, polished wood floors, streaming sunlight and little else. "Wow, you guys've really redone the place!"

Snape led the way up the stairs towards what at least used to be a series of bedrooms. "Yep. That was Dumbledore, mostly. He felt it best to just remove all of the Blacks' old things after that. Got a bunch of those Weasley kids to come in and repaint, as they had the time. Molly's been scouring the Muggle Oxfam shops for furniture," Kingsley turned and gave Harry a big thump on his shoulder, "Don't worry, though, we've got you a proper bed and all."

"No more weird portraits?" said Harry hopefully, noting the conspicuous blankness of the walls. The house-elf heads were also gone, as well, even their memory obliterated with more fresh paint, this time a soothing cream.

Kingsley moved ahead of Snape, pointing him to one of the rooms on the left and showing Harry to a room two doors down on the right. "You'll be in here, Harry," he said with a grin. The room had been painted a soft blue, the ceiling enchanted so that fluffy white clouds floated past. The walls were as bare as the rest of the house, although there were curtains on the wide window, and the bed looked brand new and quite comfortable with its crisp white sheets and deep blue coverlet. A small desk, dresser and wardrobe in mismatched colours of varnished wood completed the furnishings.

Hedwig was perched on the wooden footboard, and she gave a sleepy welcoming hoot as he walked in. Kingsley gave him another friendly slap and left him to it, and Harry quickly took his trunk and cage out of his pocket, then realized a bit helplessly that he wouldn't be allowed magic for two more days. "Allow me, Potter," said Snape from the doorway, making Harry jump slightly.

"Th-thanks, Professor," said Harry, stepping back to allow Snape a bit of room. The trunk and cage grew back to their normal size, and Harry realized suddenly that there was something missing. "We've left our shopping with the twins!"

"Fortunately, I have already arranged for them to deliver it tonight. As their establishment is normally closed Sunday and Monday, they have agreed to spend their 'weekends' here for the duration of our stay." His voice had thawed slightly now that they were alone, warmth creeping into his tone as he spoke.

Snape swept out, leaving Harry to unpack. He flopped back on the bed, and Hedwig opened one eye and clacked her beak in disapproval. Harry rushed to put her cage to rights, setting it up on the dresser so she could get herself settled in. He busied himself with his trunk to keep from dwelling too much, staring down at the contents, thinking that his old things wouldn't be fit for donation once his new arrived.

He opened the wardrobe and was surprised to find his new clothing already put away, shoes in a neat row along the bottom, suits and robes hanging. The dresser proved to have all of his new socks, pants, and the shirts and trousers that didn't need hanging. Harry began sorting through his old things, putting away his Weasley jumpers, Quidditch robes, and school uniforms and finding most of the rest unfit to wear. He tossed his dirty things in the hamper, left the rejected clothes on the bed, stowed his trunk at the foot of it and went looking for Snape.

Harry found him in the kitchen, making tea and talking to Kingsley in low tones. "Harry!" said Kingsley brightly when he walked in, cutting off whatever conversation they'd been having, evidently about himself or some other classified Order business.

"Will I be doing the laundry?" Harry asked, sitting at the low table. "I don't mind, it's just that I only know the Muggle way, and I don't think there's a washing machine."

Snape looked up from where his hands were doing their precision tea-fixing, three cups as if he'd anticipated Harry's arrival. "Dobby has agreed to stay here during the summer to care for us," he said a bit snidely. "He was waiting in my room to inform me that our things have all been unpacked for us."

"So we won't be fending entirely for ourselves?" Harry asked. He was strangely disappointed; a part of him had wanted to cook and clean with Snape, do all those little things together that were chores at the Dursleys, but would simply be living, here and now.

"To an extent. Dobby has found evidence of some sort of sabotage by Kreacher, which seems to have distressed him severely. He insists that only another house-elf can deal with it, so we will be cooking for ourselves and keeping our own rooms tidy. He insists, however, on doing the laundry."

Harry blushed. Ever since he'd begun having the sorts of dreams that left him sticky in the morning, Dobby had been especially excitable about getting to wash the results. "I can cook simple things," said Harry softly, accepting the light, sweet tea from Snape with a smile. "What'll we do with my old clothes?"

"As Dobby is not bound by the usual house elf magic, but his own free will, we can simply give them to him and allow him to dispose of them as he sees fit," said Snape, and Harry found himself moving subtly towards his professor, leaning in as he'd done on the train.

He remembered Dobby and his dozens of elf-hats, feet muffled in as many pairs of socks and said quickly, "I don't think that's the best idea. He'll end up wearing my old pants on his head or something."

Kingsley laughed, and even Snape unbent enough to crack a smile at that. "Perhaps you are correct. I will ask Mrs. Weasley what she thinks is best."

Kingsley sipped his tea and glanced back and forth between Harry and Snape, as if amazed by the lack of animosity. "You two seem to be getting on a mite better," he said finally, after a long moment of silence.

"We have, I believe, finally found some ground common to both of us," said Snape stiffly.

Kingsley looked sceptical at that, but Harry added quickly, "He did save my life. Er, again. I can't go on hating him forever."

This seemed like an explanation Kingsley could accept. "Can't ignore a life debt," he said, finishing off his tea in one swig. "Well, gotta get back to the Ministry. Pulled Saturday duty, had to call in a favour just to let you two in." He handed Snape a ring of keys and gave Harry another punishing shoulder-slap on his way out. "See you tomorrow!"

"What's tomorrow?" asked Harry, after he'd gone.

Snape brought his mug over and joined Harry at the table, relaxing a bit now that they were alone in the house. "There will be a meeting of the Order tomorrow night, after a private meeting with the Headmaster to discuss your course schedule."

"We'll be here six weeks, right?" said Harry, adding up the time in his head. "Though you'll probably have to go back a bit early."

"Correct. Several more of the Weasley family will be joining you for the final weekend, as well as Hermione Granger, I believe. You will make your second trip to Diagon Alley at that time, in more socially acceptable company," Snape's voice was slowly melting, still rueful and cynical but without the icy contempt that usually frosted his words.

"Will Professor Dumbledore have to know about my lessons with the twins?" said Harry uneasily. He could accept Snape getting a report on his sexual education, if only because he'd basically handed himself over lock, stock and barrel, at least in his own mind. Dumbledore, however, was another matter entirely.

"I believe we will be able to keep the details private although, as you know, he is already aware of their role in your education," said Snape, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Harry slumped, letting his head hit the table with a soft thump. "I have the most humiliating life sometimes," he said quietly, cheeks burning.

Snape snorted in what Harry could swear was laughter, but he was spared Harry's ire when Dobby appeared in the little kitchen with a sharp crack and began to exclaim delightedly, "Harry Potter is here! Dobby is so happy to be helping Harry Potter and Professor Snape, sir."

Harry lifted his head. "Hello, Dobby," he said sullenly, suddenly quite tired of having his life dictated by the whims of someone else. "How have you been?"

"Dobby has been quite well, sir! Headmaster Dumbledore is very good to Dobby, allowing Dobby care for Harry Potter. Dobby wanted to tell Professor Snape that the potions lab is needing many charms. Dobby can maintain charms once they have been cast, but Professor Snape must recast them, as Kreacher was very very bad and let them fade." Dobby was practically dancing with a combination of excitement and distress, wringing his hands in his tea towel.

Snape finished his tea swiftly, leaving the cup on the table, and Harry followed suit, feeling the warm liquid settle comfortingly in his stomach. "You may as well accompany me, Potter. It will be a good experience for you to see how a potions laboratory is properly warded."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, following them both out of the kitchen and down the hallway, further into the basement of the house. There were a single pair of doors here, one on either side of the tiny hallway, the left hand door ajar, revealing a dirty, disused potions lab. "What's in the other?" Harry asked, pointing to the right.

"A store room, which I would advise you keep out of. Not everything in this house has been renovated in anticipation of your arrival," said Snape, slipping back into his Teacher Voice.

Harry tried not to let it bother him, instead concentrating on the silky tone and the soft feel of Snape's borrowed shirt beneath his fingertips. He shivered at the memory of Snape stripping out of the shirt; this didn't bode well for his ability to function in Potions class ever again, but it certainly brought interesting images to mind.

"Have any of the original wards survived?" Snape asked Dobby, bringing Harry out of his imagination and back to the dirty, stifling little room.

"Dobby does not think so, sir, but Professor Snape should check that Kreacher did not hide and warp the wards." Dobby was cowering a bit, looking fearful and ashamed in the centre of the room. "May Dobby go now, sir? Dobby does not like this place at all. Bad things were done here, very bad things."

"You may," said Snape, and Dobby disappeared with another crack of displaced air. There was a long pause, during which Snape turned silently, hands still clasped behind his back. "I believe this room will have to be cleansed, both physically and magically, before we can make use of it," he said, eyes falling on Harry with a look of distaste.

"I can help," said Harry quickly. He was grateful for the excuse, both to be with Snape and to show the professor that he wasn't completely useless. "I've got loads of practice scrubbing things," he said a bit ruefully, recalling several detentions spent cleaning cauldrons and scrubbing worktables, as well as hours slaving for Aunt Petunia.

Snape looked surprised and faintly dubious as he said, "I am sure your experience will be invaluable, Potter. I am going to change into more suitable clothing, and I suggest you do the same. Meet me in the kitchen, and we will fortify ourselves with lunch before beginning this rather Herculean task."

"Right," said Harry, turning and leaving the dark little room gratefully. He hated the atmosphere in there, hated the way the summer heat gathered and clung.

Harry headed upstairs, unbuttoning the shirt as he went, and was gratified to hear a sharp intake of breath behind him when he slid it off just before going into his room. He intentionally left the door ajar as he changed, temptation and subtle invitation, then carefully stashed the precious shirt, still smelling slightly of Snape when he gave it a last sniff before stuffing it into a corner of his trunk. Donning his old jeans and trainers and that awful Smeltings t-shirt, Harry hurried back down to get started.

The kitchen itself was just as dim and strange as ever, although a coat of paint did make it seem less dingy. Snape followed him down a few moments later, clad in loose, soft pants and a stained green tunic, looking for all the world like some ancient apothecary's apprentice. He'd left his hair tied back, and Harry had to suppress the urge to kiss his way across the high cheekbones and down that pointed jaw, to taste one more time of the forbidden fruit of his lips.

"Sandwiches?" said Harry, looking over the cupboard.

"Acceptable," said Snape, reaching over Harry to grab the mustard off the top shelf. Their bodies brushed, and Harry gasped at the electric spark it sent through him. "So responsive," said Snape softly from behind him, setting the mustard on the counter.

"Sorry, sir," said Harry, chagrined, reaching up to get the other ingredients from their charmed shelves, which kept the meat and cheese gently cold, and the bread still faintly oven-warm.

Snape put a hand on Harry's shoulder and turned him until they were facing, barely a foot of space between them. "Never think I dislike your responses, Harry. I very much envy those who are privileged enjoy them, and wish to help _you_ control _them_ rather than the other way around," Snape's cheeks coloured slightly, and he looked down as he added quietly, "Given freely, they are the essence of beauty to me."  
  
Harry blushed, then gave into impulse and brushed a soft kiss across Snape's pinked cheek. "Thank you, Severus," he said softly, turning away and looking for a knife with which to cut the bread, deliberately breaking the moment.

They made their food and ate it in a quiet, comfortable silence, Snape watching Harry from beneath hooded eyes, his Teacher facade discarded. Harry watched back, trying to figure out when this strange transition had occurred, how he'd fallen so deeply and swiftly for his once-hated professor. He found everything confusing, from Snape's mood swings to his own somewhat hormone-driven reactions. He had a thousand wild urges, none of which Snape would accept or appreciate right now, but each of which made his cheeks grow a little hotter, and cock grow a touch harder.

He wanted to kneel, naked, at Snape's feet, and offer himself for use. He wanted to stop the teasing altogether, show restraint and maturity so that, when their long wait was finally over, Snape would respect him enough to want him for more than a temporary expenditure of long-pent lust. He wanted to curl into Snape's bed at night and sleep with his ear pressed to that steady heartbeat. He wanted to strip slowly out of his clothing, piece by piece, touching himself and bringing his body alive until Snape's control broke and he took Harry right on the kitchen table.

He wanted to disappear through the floor when he realized something of his thoughts must show on his face, from the look of amused hunger in Snape's.

"Dobby!" said Snape sharply moments later, startling Harry into dropping the last of his sandwich onto his plate.

Dobby reappeared with a sharp crack, grinning. "Professor Snape calls for Dobby?"

"We need cleaning implements, where are they stored?" he said imperiously, something in the bitter chocolate tone making Harry's cock twitch as he considered how it would sound when broken by lust and sex.

"Dobby will bring them down to sir! Is Professor Snape needing anything else?" said Dobby cheerfully. Harry had no idea what he'd been up to, but he seemed unbearably happy about it, whatever it was.

"I believe that is all for now, thank you," said Snape, surprising Harry with his polite words, if not the haughty tone of them.

Dobby disappeared again, and Snape gathered his empty dishes and strode over to the sink. "If you are unable to control your thoughts, Mr. Potter, you will have to learn to at least control your features while you are in my class. I do not think that your classmates would be very understanding of the fascination you currently show in my presence."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth to quiet any protests he might otherwise have made. He knew his face showed everything, and he'd never been able to do anything about it. Maybe Snape would add these lessons to his others, which frankly would be a little creepy at that point, Snape moulding every aspect of his personality until he was a perfect little Hero. Shaping him from what he was into what Snape and Dumbledore wanted him to be, as desirable on the inside as he apparently was on the outside.

Snape cleaned his dishes in the sink, the quiet clink of china and splash of water making Harry acutely aware of his otherwise silent presence. He gulped the rest of his pumpkin juice and set the cup down a bit harder than he'd intended. "Do you even like me at all?" he snapped.

"What? How could you..." Snape paused, obviously taking a mental stock of their recent conversations. He walked over and sat down next to Harry, who tried very hard not to let the admittedly petulant hurt in his chest show on his face. From the look on Snape's, he was failing, but at least he was _trying_.

"Harry," Snape continued, laying a gentle hand on Harry's arm, "I am not a nice man, and in this house you are my student as much as when we are at Hogwarts. I must constantly remind myself not to take liberties, and yet I find myself doing so at every opportunity."

Harry laughed, a harsh bark composed mainly of confusion and misplaced anger. "I'm sorry it's just... bloody hell, I don't know, I've never... this is really weird for me, y'know? I only realised I was interested in you at all a month ago, quickly followed up by the completely startling news that it was mutual." He paused, trying to read the emotions glittering through Snape's black eyes. "Then suddenly, I find there's secret code words to getting laid, and the fucking Weasley twins are seeing to my sexual education, and I desperately want _you_ of all people, and you keep going from cold to warm and back again before I can blink... it's just a lot, all at once."

Harry threaded his hands through his hair, elbows on the table and head hanging down so he wouldn't have to see the result of his little tirade. It was all just so _hard_ sometimes, completely aside from the constant gnawing worry that he wouldn't be able to stomach murder on top of everything else. He wanted so badly, everything seemed so intense, and most of the time no one, not even Snape, treated him like his feelings were anything more than adolescent sulking.

"Harry," said Snape hoarsely. He cleared his throat, then reached out and pulled Harry across the bench, wrapping long arms around Harry's tense form. "You are an astonishing young man, and, yes, I have come to like you. You are brave and honest with your feelings, a quality I will never possess. You have been open and trusting with me, even though our history should preclude such faith."

Harry let himself be held, tired of the constant batter of changing emotions. The conflicting urges, to just bugger it all for a lark and offer himself up as Snape's fuck toy, to run away to Bulgaria and become a dishwasher, to run out and save the world just to show Snape he wasn't worthless... it was confusing and exhilarating, frightening and arousing all at once. "I don't understand myself today," said Harry softly into Snape's chest.

"What can I do to help you?" Snape asked, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry's head that sent a thrill of warmth curling in his belly.

"Let me get to know you," said Harry, finally relaxing into Snape's loose embrace. "Like you really want to be my friend, instead of just _teaching_ me stuff all the time."

Snape let him go, carefully sitting him up until he balanced himself, running a comforting hand down his back. "How about we go clean, and I will attempt to appreciate your mind while our hands are otherwise occupied?"

Harry nodded. "That sounds perfect. But you'll have to pick the topic because I'm hopeless today. I keep having these _ideas_." He said the last with heartfelt exasperation; it got old after awhile, being sixteen and constantly, transparently horny.

"I can only imagine, and probably should not," said Snape, his voice rich with dark humour, sweet affection and bitter self-censure.

Harry laughed. "You can't be fired for thinking it," he said impishly, getting up to take his dishes to the sink. He gave them a quick wash and set them on the rack to dry, then turned back to find Snape looking cool and collected once again, standing by the door.

"Shall we?" he said, gesturing gracefully for Harry to precede him.

"You just want to watch my arse," said Harry, deliberately hitching up his shirt to show it off to best advantage.

"As you said, I cannot be fired for thinking, only doing," said Snape sardonically.

"I'll keep that in mind for later," said Harry. "Maybe I'll just sleep naked, as I've forgotten to buy new pyjamas anyway, and develop a sudden sleepwalking problem."

Snape let out a long breath, and Harry remembered belatedly that the professor had yet to see him fully nude. "I believe that would test the limits of my patience, Mr. Potter."

"Would I require spanking?" said Harry, joking through the strange wash of dread he felt going back into the abandoned lab. "Fuck, it's creepy in here."

"Language," said Snape sharply. He moved swiftly to where the cleaning supplies were waiting, and handed Harry some cleaning solution, a scrub brush and a rag. "You start on the tables, and I will begin with the cabinets. I suspect anything particularly macabre will be there."

"Macabre? You think there's something foul in here, don't you?" said Harry, feeling paranoid. The room seemed smaller all of a sudden, the strange smells hanging more ominously in the close, heavy air.

"It would account for the atmosphere," said Snape seriously. "But I do not believe there is anything harmful left, or Moody would have spotted it when he did his walk-through last week."

"Right, then," said Harry, girding himself to get started. He began with the table closest to the front, as near as possible to Snape. "So, what'll we talk about?"

Snape chuckled and said, "I would bring up the latest advancements in the Wolfsbane potion, but as it is obviously not your best subject...."

"Bite me," said Harry, feeling a bit pissy at being reminded of his status as Snape's least favourite student.

"Not today, Mr. Potter," was Snape's irritatingly calm reply.

Harry snorted, and put his back into the scrubbing while Snape gathered his cleaning supplies and his thoughts, and opened one of the cupboards. There were old stains in the wood surface that didn't want to come up, the largest of which gave Harry a shivery feeling every time he tried. "I think this stain's cursed," said Harry into the thick silence, tossing his brush down in frustration.

Snape's voice was controlled and serious as he replied, "I am concerned that we may need to -- no, don't turn around -- to dispose of all the furnishings and begin anew."

Harry stayed half-turned, curious now what Snape could have found in the cupboard that he wouldn't want Harry to see. "What've you found, then?" he asked, a bit of his earlier petulance creeping into his tone, making him annoyed at his own whininess.

"There are a number of jars containing human ingredients," said Snape matter-of-factly, his voice cold and distant, "and it is obvious from the assortment that the donors did not survive their donation. I suspect your suspicious stain is connected, although it might be something altogether different. The sort of people who keep such things are generally guilty of more than one sin, after all."

"That's... gross," said Harry, horrified. He stared at the reddish-brown stain, now glistening with cleaning solution, and shivered.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. If you would be so kind as to allow me the use of your owl, I believe we should consult the Headmaster as to the disposal of the... remains. We can do your Potions lessons in the kitchen for now, if need be." Snape's hand in the small of his back made Harry jump, and he found himself gently guided out of the horrid little room, door closed firmly behind them, and then into the kitchen.

Harry sat down, a bit stunned at the thought that his godfather's parents had kept bits of a person down in their basement for potions. Sirius had said his mother was awful and everything, and they'd had all those terrible Dark artefacts, but Harry had never had it brought home quite so vividly that such pureblood families literally viewed Muggles as less than human. Harry felt vaguely ill, but looking around the repainted kitchen helped. Thinking about the way the Order was sweeping the Dark past out of this house and turning it slowly into something good and light, that helped more.

Wondering how Sirius would feel about him falling for Snape, however, did not help at all. A strange feeling of guilt and worry gnawed at him as he realised that not all his friends would take to his relationship with Snape as well as the twins had, most notably their brother, Ron. Sirius would not have stood for it, would have tried to get Snape sacked or Harry laid by some girl, probably, or even tried to find him some other, older man like Snape said was the usual way, just to get him a proper introduction.

"Talk to me about something so I don't think about the fact that my godfather grew up in a house full of people bits," said Harry shakily, when Snape handed him a fresh cup of strong tea, fixed once again just the way he liked it. He spared a moment of regret that he hadn't thought to watch, but it was squashed by the realisation that he'd have many more opportunities.

"Demanding boy," said Snape affectionately, his tone making Harry look up to see the haunted look in his eyes somewhat alleviated by something that might be caring or concern, if Harry was optimistic. "Let me send the owl, and then we can play chess in the parlour while I await a reply."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, grinning. "I'll just go change and get Hedwig, then?"

Harry ran upstairs without further prompting. He tossed the barely-dirty clothing into the hamper and dug out the grey slacks that had flattered his arse, and one of his new deep red shirts, leaving it untucked and somewhat dishevelled, with more buttons undone than was strictly necessary. He suppressed the urge to check himself out in the mirror and see if he had the just-debauched air that he hoped it gave him, and instead gently woke Hedwig and urged her onto his shoulder.

He made his way back down the stairs, peering in the mostly-empty rooms on the ground floor until he found Snape waiting in something that seemed a combination of study and sitting room. A battered desk occupied one corner, and worn, plump chairs formed a crooked semicircle around the fireplace, spindly little mismatched end tables giving each a place for a cup of tea or a book. Quite a few less-comfortable looking wooden chairs littered the room, and Harry got the impression that this was where the Order conducted most of their business.

Snape was, of course, already ensconced behind the desk, somehow miraculously changed back into an elegant black shirt, sleeves rolled all the way up this time, the dark colour and recent shock making him seem deathly pale. "Got her, sir," said Harry, depositing Hedwig gently on the messy surface.

"Thank you, Potter," said Snape, without looking up. Harry, accustomed to hearing his last name from Snape's lips either clipped out in anger or drawn out in sarcasm, found it strangely appealing to hear it simply spoken in an almost genial tone.

"You're welcome, Professor," Harry replied, moving to take one of the comfortable chairs by the now-dormant fireplace.

The quill scratched on, a small, soothing noise in the sometimes oppressive silence of the empty house. Harry let his mind drift, away from all his many weighty problems and onto a nice, quiet fantasy of being allowed to kiss Snape whenever he pleased. "Is there anything you wish to add?" Snape asked, making Harry start.

"Er, no, sir," said Harry quickly, unable to think of anything appropriate to say to the Headmaster. 'Why won't you let me snog my Potions master,' seemed a bit much, even for Dumbledore's normal relaxed manner.

Snape rolled the parchment up quickly and tied it neatly to Hedwig's leg, giving her a quick scratch before taking her over to the window. "Kindly take this to Professor Dumbledore, and wait for a reply if possible," said Snape, then launched her into the sunny afternoon.

"So, chess?" said Harry lightly.

Snape turned, finally taking in Harry's state of dress. His eyes went briefly wide, then narrowed dangerously. "You play for high stakes today, Harry," he purred, a sound that went straight to Harry's groin, making him glad he'd left the shirt untucked.

"Don't I always?" said Harry, half in flirtation, half in disgust. He was forcibly reminded of the Death Eater meeting that they'd both just barely escaped with their lives, and pushed away all but the memory of his first shocking contact with Snape's lean body.

"I suppose you do," said Snape thoughtfully, rummaging about in the shelves around the room until he found a small chess set. Harry stood up and rearranged two of the comfortable chairs until they were facing one another, the largest of the end tables set between them, fortunately just big enough for the board.

"I will give you white, and also take a handicap of one bishop and two pawns," said Snape, setting up with those three pieces missing from the black side. Harry had a feeling he'd still get soundly trounced, but at least this way he'd have a shot.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, setting up his own pieces and making his opening move. "You were telling me something about yourself," he reminded, gently running idle fingers along the skin just inside his open collar.

"You really should button that further," said Snape crossly, making his move.

"It's warm in here," said Harry with a small smile. "You can consider it an extra handicap and be glad I'm not in my knickers."

Snape gave one of his rare, low laughs, the sound tripping down Harry's spine in a delicious shiver. "Indeed, Harry. Although I do believe I shall have to introduce you to strip chess once you've left school."

"Tease," Harry replied, contemplating the board. Snape had set up his pieces to minimize the holes left in his defences by the handicap, but Harry thought he could see a strategy that just might get him through, so he moved his knight, getting a scowl from Snape.

"Clever," said Snape, settling back in his chair. "I find myself at a loss when it comes to such idle, personal conversations, however. What did you wish to know?"

"Well, don't you have any hobbies outside of taking points from Gryffindor?" said Harry, looking down.

"Several," said Snape, reaching out to make a move that thwarted most of Harry's half-formed plans. "I collect decorative phials, as I'm sure you've noticed, as well as certain rare books."

Harry nodded. "What books?" he asked, curious.

"I have a private collection of homoerotic literature that you may not see, touch or ask about again until you leave school," said Snape sternly.

Harry nodded, shifting a bit in his seat as he grew uncomfortably hard. He remembered the book in Snape's bathroom with the two snogging young men, and the image inevitably expanded Snape reading it in the bath, one hand holding the book out of the water and the other working frantically below. "That's... interesting. How long have you been collecting the bottles?"

"I was given the first one as a gift for getting an O in my Potions OWL," said Snape, and Harry noted the still, blank cast of his features. Something about this line of conversation bothered Snape, but he didn't want to let on. Harry got a flash of his father from one of their Occlumency lessons, and suppressed a shudder.

Harry grinned instead, focusing on the academics rather than Snape's regrettable family life. "Seems appropriate, but I suppose you got plenty of Outstanding OWLs."

Snape smiled a quiet little half-smile, strange and slightly bitter. "Actually, I got mostly Excellent marks, although I did take quite a few OWLs all told. My only other O was in Charms, and I was given my signet ring for that."

"So, you got a reward for your top marks? That's brilliant," said Harry, thinking back to his own OWLs. He'd been at the Dursleys again, miserable and alone, and his marks had been a small high point in an otherwise horrible few weeks. His only regret, aside from his truly abysmal History results, had been not having anyone to share his excitement with.

"Heirloom jewelry is often passed on at either OWL or NEWT level, as a form of acceptance of the heir as worthy of their place in wizarding socity. Snape paused. "Accio ring box," he said, and a little velvet box came flying through the doorway a few moments later. "I now use my father's gift to pick up young men," Snape added, voice dripping with irony. He handed the box to Harry, who opened it curiously.  
  
Inside was a small, heavy ring, intricately patterned silver with piece of deep, flawless jade in the centre, the stone etched with a tiny, detailed copy of a crest, presumably Snape's. "I wear it on my smallest right finger when I am interested in company. From all indications, I would guess that you would wear yours on the left, whether it be ring, earring or bracelet. If you ever had need to declare your alliance with me publicly, I would have you wear that, on the left."

Harry lifted it gingerly out of the box, examining the fine workmanship. "May I?" he asked, holding up his hand. Snape nodded, face filled with a strange hunger as Harry slipped the ring onto his left pinkie. It fit surprisingly well, the weight of it comfortable and the cold metal quickly warming to his skin. "So, now everyone would know that I belong to you."

Snape made a soft sound, and closed his eyes briefly. When he reopened them, they were guarded, his voice flat, dry and factual. "This sign would indicate that you were with me in a romantic capacity, and that you preferred to take the receptive role."  
  
"Oh," said Harry softly. The chess game lay forgotten between them, both lost in thought for long minutes. Harry contemplated the ring on his hand, the strange comfort of it. "I'd like that, I think, everyone knowing I was yours."

Snape breathed deeply, knuckles going slightly white on the armrest as he said quietly, "I find I am surprised, given your usual cavalier attitude towards authority, to find you possess such desires."

"Neither of us is entirely what we seem," said Harry, blushing slightly as he ran a list of his newfound desires through his head. He had a sudden image of himself, nude, on hands and knees on the hearthrug, offering his arse to a fully-clothed Snape. Of the ring, magically expanded to fit not his finger but his prick, nudging up against the crown, Snape's crest resting just below the head. "And I'm finding I've got all sorts of desires I never knew I had," he added, squirming in his seat.

"Such as... no. You are making me forget my place," said Snape, deliberately straightening in the chair. "You have always had that effect, although in your youth it was to an entirely different purpose."

Harry squirmed again, body tightening at Snape's newest near-admission that he wanted Harry. "Tell me what you like," he said softly. "Tell me what you want."

"I... I cannot," Snape stammered, cheeks colouring attractively. He still hadn't taken his hair down, and his face was strong and handsome in the afternoon sunlight.

"Sorry," said Harry, realizing he'd overstepped his bounds. Conversation was one thing, but asking for Snape's personal sexual fantasies was quite another. He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled ruefully. "I just keep pushing, don't I?"

"As you always have, Mr. Potter," said Snape, his Teacher Voice ruined by the warm desire threading through it. "I believe it is your move?"

Harry looked down at the forgotten chess game. He made another move, this one a bit reckless, but just now he was feeling like taking a few risks. "Are you ever going to ask me about Fred and George?"

Snape's whole face softened, the emotions on it too mixed and complex for Harry to read. Still, Harry found it oddly comforting that he'd been allowed to watch them at all as Snape said, "No, Harry, I am not." He stared blindly at the chessboard for a minute before moving, "If you have specific questions you are welcome to come to me, otherwise I will do us both the kindness of keeping such discussions between myself and the twins."

"I still don't quite get why they're so willing," said Harry, making another nearly-random chess move. Fred and George had always tried to take care of him, sure, but this was entirely outside the bounds of what you do for a friend of your little brother's -- although not, evidently, outside their version of brotherly love.

Snape shook his head wonderingly. "I am constantly surprised at how you can be such a prize, and not understand your own worth."

Harry shrugged painfully, remembering years of being shoved into a cupboard, thrashed by his cousin and uncle, verbally abused by his aunt and alternately worshipped and vilified by his fellow students. "It's part of my charm?" he said with a wry half-smile, suddenly feeling a decade older. In the last 48 hours, he'd left the Dursleys forever; had sex with not one but two men; entertained dozens of fantasies of offering his body to Severus Snape for his exclusive and unrestricted use; and, lest we forget, tried to clean human bloodstains off of a potions worktable, because the previous owners were complete freaks.

"Indeed, Harry," said Snape, quiet affection in his voice. "Now, let us, perhaps, change the subject to matters other than those things which we cannot have."

"Yet," said Harry, a little defiantly.

"Yet," Snape conceded with a small nod. "Your move, Harry."

"Thank you, Severus," said Harry, fingers toying with the ring. "I suppose you'll be wanting this back?"

Snape sighed, a strange sound from such a normally reserved man. Harry was slowly getting used to these small displays of emotion and, by extension, trust, but it still sometimes startled him to see Snape acting human. "I do not want to take it back, but I must. You may... you may wear it until our game is concluded, if you like."

"You think you're weak for saying so," said Harry, struck by a sudden insight. "Well, I don't. We've had a long, strange couple of days, and I think I for one am allowed any small comfort I can get. It's not like you're going to shag me to make yourself feel better, or anything." He ended his little tirade by making another risky move, hoping Snape wouldn't see his bizarre strategy.

Snape gave an ironic little smile, eyebrows going up in surprise at the last. "You have a very interesting point, which I will consider in between bouts of self-flagellation," he said sardonically. Snape looked at the board, then made an answering move, annoyingly none of the ones Harry had considered he might make. He further disrupted Harry's train of thought by adding, "As for that last, I will reiterate your previous assertion: yet."

Harry forced himself to breathe, hoping he didn't leak all the way through his knickers and stain his nice new trousers. He was definitely going to toss off as soon as this chess game was over, hopefully making it last long enough to pull some of these new fantasies and see how they played out. "Maybe as a reward for my NEWTs?" said Harry, trying to think of chess instead of what it might feel like to have Snape's prick in his arse.

Snape laughed again. "I should warn you, although you are quickly developing a facility for the type of verbal sparring generally practiced amongst wizards of our preference, you lapse into simplicity far too often. Vulgarity is simply unacceptable in these situations, under normal circumstances."

"It's a good thing I've got you to practice on, then, isn't it?" said Harry, giving up and moving a chess piece at random. His brain was no longer interested in the game, and refused to cooperate.

"Indeed. Although I shall have to find some method for marking you down when you do fall back on crude propositions in order to discourage them, as I am sure my reactions do not," said Snape, his voice full of amusement.

Harry shrugged. "What can I say, I've always loved to get a rise out of you."

Snape dissolved into laughter at that, and it took Harry a minute to realise what he'd said and follow. They laughed out their tension and strain, the stress of dealing with the house and the restrictions on their relationship. When they finally quieted down, they both had a much more relaxed air; Harry finally felt like he might survive the summer after all, and Snape had regained his air of casual elegance.

"Although amusing, that particular metaphor is also a bit crude," said Snape, eyes sparkling. "Perhaps we should work on the vocabulary?"

"Sure, why not. Now's as good a time as any for my first proper lesson," said Harry, looking strangely forward to starting this set of classes. Snape was, if nothing else, a man of wit and clever words, and Harry wanted very badly to be able to hold his own against that razor tongue. They'd have other nights to talk about themselves, to develop a friendship rather than this strange camaraderie based on mutual enemies and unrequited lust.

Snape started by explaining the chess metaphor, which Harry had mostly figured out on his own, moving on to other, less obvious double entendres. They continued to play chess at random intervals, short flurries of activity quickly sidetracked by conversation. Harry enjoyed himself thoroughly, and got the feeling that Snape did too, so much so that they were both surprised when dusk began to creep in through the windows, casting shadows in the previously sunlit room.

Snape lit the lamps with his wand, and Harry fingered the ring and contemplated the increasingly dire state of his forces; even the chess pieces had begun mocking him at this point, irritated at having been so thoroughly bashed even with Snape's handicap. Just as Harry was about to concede, Hedwig arrived, and they abandoned the hopeless game to deal instead with serious matters.

Hedwig had a scroll for Snape, and a package for Harry, which she set down quite gently in one of the chairs. Inside were two smaller parcels, cradled in a nest of cotton wool, one wrapped gaily in green paper with red and gold ribbons, the other in plain brown paper tied with string. Harry extracted the plainly wrapped one, which proved to contain his little phoenix bottle, carefully nestled in more cotton wool. The other one he contemplated while Snape read Dumbledore's reply, wondering when would be the best time to present it, whether he should wait for Christmas or just hand it over now.

He was spared the decision when Snape said crossly, "Take Hedwig upstairs, and your things with them. We will discuss the Headmaster's reply while we prepare dinner."

"Did you want to see what I got at the glassmaker's?" Harry asked shyly, holding out the little phoenix in its box.

Snape looked up from the parchment to the figure cradled in its protective nest. "May I?" he asked, reaching out towards it. At Harry's nod, he carefully lifted the fragile ornament out from the box, holding it reverently as he examined it in the torchlight. "You have excellent taste, Harry," said Snape with a smile. "I find I envy your choice, as it would not be out of place in my own collection."

Harry grinned, preening at the praise. "Well, then you've got something else to look forward to, as it's mine, and I'll be yours soon enough."

Snape blinked in gentle surprise, then nodded, returning the phoenix to its box. "I believe, however, that I will have to ask for the return of my token. Although it will remain in its box until it can once again grace your hand, Order members will be reporting in at unpredictable intervals, and it would not do for you to be seen with it."

Harry nodded, pulling the ring off reluctantly and dropping it in Snape's outstretched palm, then gathered his packages. He was struck with a sudden inspiration, "When's your birthday?"

"How is that at all relevant?" asked Snape, clearly bemused at abrupt the change of subject.

Harry grinned. "Humour me."

"August the twenty-seventh," said Snape. "I will be thirty-nine."

"Wicked," said Harry. "Well, then you'll have to wait patiently for your present." He brandished the wrapped package with a grin.

"I am more than twice your age," said Snape, ignoring the gift.

"And Dumbledore's ten times my age. So what?" said Harry irritably. "Aren't you the least bit curious what I've found for you?"

Snape smiled. "I am extremely curious, but if I can wait a year for you, I can wait a month and a half for my gift."

Harry stuck his tongue out at Snape, and headed upstairs with his packages.


	9. Two for Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and the twins enjoy an evening together.

The twins arrived by Floo while Harry was upstairs, greeting Snape with gentle new affection, warm embraces and kisses full of eager anticipation. They were enough to restore Snape's equilibrium, the promise of later helping him drive away the thoughts of inappropriate pederasty that had dogged him throughout the day. He'd started his day faced with Harry's morning erection, and things had never quite recovered -- Snape had constantly found himself allowing Harry liberties the boy never should have taken. That Harry never should have wanted to take, if Snape were to be brutally honest with himself.

In fact, Snape was still firmly held in George's arms when Harry came back downstairs, and he wondered that he could still feel that flash of resentment when Fred swung Harry into an enthusiastic hug. "How's our favourite little cherry?"

Harry made moue of distaste at the epithet, and Snape couldn't blame him. Still, Snape felt it was well worth it to see Fred's expression when Harry planted a kiss on his nose and said, "Saving that bit for Snape, thank you very much."

"That still leaves us a lot of other bits, anyway," said George with a shrug, releasing Snape to go and collect a kiss from Harry. Their affection was so natural, so guileless, it was hard for Snape to countenance this seething, painful jealousy, a possessiveness for things which were not yet even his.

"Are you joining us for dinner?" said Snape, instead of the hundred other things that came to mind, demands for things he had no right, no reason to claim.

"We brought some for everyone," said Fred with a grin, pointing to one stack of boxes he'd left sitting on the hearth. Their forgotten shopping was in another, slightly more battered-looking one. "Hope Indian's all right."

"Brilliant!" said Harry, wriggling out of George's arms to go and prod at the gently steaming containers.

"In the kitchen," Snape said sharply, wondering at Harry's enthusiasm for something so simple as cheap takeaway food. "Harry, why don't you set the places while we bring the food in?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry smartly, and Snape got the urge to deduct points, a punishment he was beginning to realise he'd have a hard time maintaining discipline without. He didn't suppose that Dumbledore would countenance spankings, nor did he think that Harry would find it a particularly difficult punishment to endure, but he allowed himself to entertain a momentary fantasy as he watched the boy's arse in those lovely grey trousers.

Fred and George slinked over to bracket Snape, one in front, one behind, both pressing prominent erections into suddenly sensitive flesh. "You're going mad, aren't you?" whispered Fred in his ear.

"He's very fuckable, isn't he?" murmured George, one hand trailing down over Snape's chest to catch at a nipple.

"Good thing we're here to take the edge off," added Fred, snaking a hand around to stroke him through his trousers.

"Indeed," said Snape, more of a gasp than the usual sarcastic drawl. His hips pressed involuntarily into Fred's hand, and he whimpered when the fingers teased along his length.

"Soon," said George, kissing him lightly and then stepping away. Fred lingered a moment longer, nibbling at the tender skin behind his ear and letting him regain his balance before stepping back.

Snape took a few deep breaths and adjusted his clothing in a futile attempt to hide his erection. "Dinner," he said shortly, sweeping out of the room with flushed cheeks and, for once, eager anticipation of the near future.

The meal progressed with surprisingly few hitches, easy conversation flowing between them, even Harry managing to have opinions when they discussed Fred and George's research into new trick sweets, although not as much on the process of creating them as the desired results. Snape managed to convince his body that it would have to wait, age and experience aiding him in the fight against three affectionate, attractive young men who all seemed determined to insert innuendo into the most innocent of topics.

In the end, his prick settled on uncomfortably half-hard, though all his work was undone when dinner was over and the twins kissed Harry goodnight, strong arms surrounding him in way that suggested they might have done just that, with less clothing, the night before. Snape just watched, cock achingly hard, as they pushed Harry into a state of perfect surrender, just with lips and tongues and hands over clothing. His mouth went dry as he witnessed the transition, Harry laughing and joking with them, then simply melting, going boneless and open in their arms.

"Beautiful," Snape murmured as Harry's eyes fluttered shut, his arms looped around Fred's neck, body cradled against George's strong chest.

Harry's eyes flew open, his gaze riveted on their audience as he flushed bright red. "Ohgod, I'm so sorry, I..." he stammered, body going tense.

"It's all right, Harry," said Snape, walking over to them. "It's good that I've seen... well, it will help me to better understand what needs to be done to keep you safe," he said almost gently. He knew this state intimately, the horrifying embarrassment that set in after you came down from that place where everything felt perfect, and Harry... well, a bit of snogging and fondling in front of someone who oughtn't be watching was nothing compared to some of the things Snape had been coaxed into doing.

Harry dropped his eyes, and the twins looked chagrined. "We're sorry," said Fred quietly.

"We should have known better," said George just as softly. They waited for Harry to straighten up before stepping away, and he swayed slightly at the loss of their support.

"It's all right," said Harry in a small voice. "He's right, he ought to know just how..."

"How much you are now like I once was," finished Snape in that same gentle tone. "Never fear that I will judge you harshly for this, Harry. Ruining potions, yes, but not this."

Harry managed a weak chuckle at that, and the moment faded. Fred dropped a kiss on top of Harry's messy head, and George gave his cheek a last nuzzle before turning his attention entirely on Snape. "Well, I think we've got," George began.

"Some unfinished business," said Fred with a lascivious grin.

"I'll go lock myself in my room and w-wank, shall I?" said Harry, almost managing a light, humorous tone.

Fred and George exercised a remarkable sensitivity, a trait that Snape was just beginning to realise they'd possessed all along, and pretended he'd managed it, giving him a gentle shove toward the stairs. "Don't pull it off," called Fred.

"We've got uses for it tomorrow!" George yelled after his swiftly retreating figure. They waited for the sound of Harry's footsteps to fade into silence before turning as one to him. "Now," said George, his tone positively predatory.

"Where were we?" asked Fred, grin widening.

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and said, in as cold a tone as he could muster with his cock throbbing hotly between his legs, "I believe you were about to attempt to make up for nearly seven years of misbehaviour and misguided attempts at humour?"

George laughed, and Fred's grin went positively wicked. "It's a start, anyway," said Fred.

"But I'm fairly sure we'll have miles to go," said George, moving towards Snape in a slow, feline stalk.

"Before we sleep," Fred completed the saying, following his brother. They circled Snape like sharks, then swooped in just as he was starting to grow nervous again, one of them capturing his lips and the other cradling him from behind, no confusion at all between them as to who was going to do what, just surprisingly gentle hands working at the fastenings of his clothing as George, he was fairly sure it was George, kissed him nearly into the same state they'd had Harry only minutes before.

"Upstairs," Snape managed to gasp out, holding onto his hard-won control by a mere thread. It was frayed and weakened by the trust and affection these two warm young men brought out in him, emotions that were as unfamiliar as the heat blooming in his chest and pooling in his groin.

"Right," murmured George against his lips.

"Wouldn't want," said Fred, nibbling at his ear, "Ickle Harry to come down for a snack." He'd almost got all of Snape's shirt buttons undone, and Snape gasped when his fingers snuck inside to pinch a nipple.

"And catch his professor naked," said George, kissing his way up Snape's jaw, his lips travelling toward the ear his brother was gently tugging on with his teeth. Snape gasped again when they didn't stop, instead meeting for a kiss just as hot as the one they'd bestowed on Snape.

"Now," Snape rasped, hips thrusting involuntarily forward to rub his aching prick over George's answering hardness.

It was Fred's turn to break the kiss and say, "Right," nipping at George's lower lip before stepping back and pulling Snape with him. They backed toward the stairs still pressed together in their embrace, but they had to break apart to climb.

Knowing there was a big, soft bed waiting for them was enough to motivate Snape to slip out from between them and take the stairs three at a time. "Hurry," he said, smirking down from the landing.

Apparently his eagerness was all they needed to motivate them, as they scrambled upstairs after him. He led them on a merry chase up another flight of stairs and down the corridor to his room, mindful of the potential for Harry seeing him like this and ruining his status as an authority figure forever. It had just been so very long since he had someone with whom he could be free, even playful, let alone two lovers who respected him and were not, for once in his life, using his own nature against him.

They made it into Snape's room unseen, and he found himself flattened against the door by an amorous Fred while George made quick work of both twins' clothing. Snape let himself get lost in the kiss this time, relinquishing his ironclad self-control and knowing that, for perhaps the first time, he could trust the men in whose hands he'd placed himself. He'd originally planned on forcing himself to stay lucid tonight, but seeing the way they'd handled Harry had made him crave that freedom for himself.

"God, you're perfect," murmured a voice, Fred's he thought although he wasn't sure because of the desire roughening the edges of it, changing the timbre to something that made his prick twitch. Snape realised he'd been stripped naked while he was woolgathering, and felt himself blushing as the twins admired his spare frame.

"I'm not much to look at," Snape murmured, cheeks flushing and eyes on the floor as they led him to his own bed, George turning back the covers as Fred helped him into it.

A warm, affectionate kiss from Fred silenced any further protests as George murmured in his ear, "Let us be the judge of that."

They laid him out on his back, both his hands held overhead in one of Fred's large, square ones, Fred's lips keeping him breathless while George's mouth worked down the front of his body, making him boneless as well. "Want to make love to you," whispered Fred into Snape's gasping mouth, just as George's clever teeth found a nipple and tugged.

"Yes, yes, anything, please!" Snape babbled as Fred sucked on his Adam's apple, and George's wicked tongue found his navel and dipped inside. "Please!" he said again, arching up off the bed when George began to fuck his sensitive belly button with his tongue.

"I think he wants us, George," said Fred, the words vibrating against Snape's throat.

George looked up at them from his vantage and grinned, giving Snape's fluttering stomach one last lick. "I do believe you're right, Fred," replied George, who then made Snape cry out by rubbing one smooth-shaven cheek against his cock.

"Yes, want you," Snape agreed mindlessly, a small part of him noting that, unlike nearly every other lover he'd had, they completely ignored his offer of 'anything' in favour of simply doing. He melted a bit more at that, spreading his legs more than willingly when George nudged them gently, bending his knees and offering himself with a wanton tilt of his hips.

Instead of the wry chuckle he'd expect to get after throwing away the last of his dignity, Snape saw George's face soften, desire tinged with something else. Something which told Snape that he understood and appreciated the gift he was being given. "You're perfect, pet," said George, and Fred sat up and swept his eyes down Snape's body to meet George's slightly stunned gaze.

"More than we deserve," Fred whispered, placing a soft kiss on Snape's sweating brow. "Promise you, swear we'll care for you, pet," he said fiercely, seeing the flash of something like panic that crossed Snape's eyes briefly at his choice of words.

Snape cringed inwardly and nodded, hating that his psyche was so full of these land mines, words and actions that triggered other, far less pleasant memories. He was distracted from his self-recrimination when George picked up one of his elegant feet and said, "Promise," then began nibbling at the sensitive arch.

Snape moaned into Fred's mouth as he was kissed again, George's lips and teeth doing obscenely wonderful things to his foot while Fred's free hand plucked and pinched at his nipples. It had been so long since anyone but him had touched his body at all, let alone with such attention to his pleasure and so little to their own. Even the hand holding his firmly to the pillows was a comfort, that small bit of safety that absolved him of responsibility for what they were doing to him, and the joy he got from it.

George began to let his fingers wander, smoothing his palm up the back of Snape's calf and caressing the back of his knee in a manner that didn't quite manage to tickle, but brought to life all the neglected nerves under the delicate skin. He shivered as they crept higher, while his big toe was engulfed in a hot mouth that proceeded to suck on it like it was a tiny cock, the appendage seemingly connected straight to his needy prick, making it twitch and leak.

Fred's fingers began to twist and pinch harder, testing the limits of his pleasure and trying to see where they crossed over into pain. Snape couldn't find the breath to explain to them that very little could make that leap for him when he was like this, and virtually nothing they could do to his nipples would qualify. He'd once spent a night with two elegant spirals of needles pierced through his nipples, drawing them away from his body to stand out like some sort of strange art, and not a word of protest had left his lips until they were removed at the end.

Everything Fred was doing felt like pure pleasure compared to that. Not that he could really protest anyway, with Fred's tongue stroking over his own, Fred's lips sealed to his in a silent message of desire and need.

Snape arched again when George's questing fingers slid up his thigh to cradle his balls, the touch surprisingly tender for such big, strong hands. This was the first time they'd really touched him so intimately, and the gentle rolling of his balls in George's palm was, he thought, some kind of metaphor for how they were treating him, like something precious, a source of pleasure that could easily be broken to pain with a careless word or touch.

Then a curious finger brushed over his entrance, and all thoughts of things like metaphor and pain left him entirely as he moaned into Fred's kiss and spread himself wider. All the other touches aside, this was what he really wanted, to be opened up and fucked, to have one or both of their substantial cocks inside his body, taking him, using him.

Fred's words floated across his mind even as George's mouth began to work its way up the path his fingers had taken, pausing to suck an anklebone and set another low moan rumbling through Snape's chest. They wanted to make love to him.

"Yes," Snape murmured the next time Fred released him long enough to gasp out the word. "Want that," he added, tilting his hips to open himself to George, to both of them.

"So eager," George whispered, breath hot against the back of Snape's knee.

Fred echoed his sentiment, murmuring into Snape's ear, "So wanton."

"Never thought you'd be this good," said George, biting his way gently up Snape's inner thighs, alternating one and then the other, teeth sinking in just enough to leave a trail of pink circles in their wake.

Fred caught his brother's eye and smiled, one of those moments of private communication that used to drive Snape batty in class. "Or we'd have tried harder before," said Fred, stretching down so that he could nibble at Snape's chest, biting one of his nipples sharply and drawing a whimper from Snape.

"Wouldn't," Snape gasped out, "wouldn't have trusted you, before." He might have tried to explain, but George's hand abandoned its post to slide up the back of his thigh, its partner going up the other leg, until Snape's knees were pulled up to his chest and George was quite happily faced with his exposed entrance.

Fred bit down on his nipple harder, much harder, and Snape arched nearly up off the bed with a hoarse cry, his cock twitching and letting out a tiny jet of precome. He wanted this so badly, and they were giving it to him unreservedly, bestowing each bit of affection with a care that belied their usual cavalier attitude. Fred shifted his hand so that his fingers twined with Snape's, and that tiny bit of comfort wrenched something like a sob from Snape's throat.

Snape saw the twins' gazes meet again and let his own eyes flutter closed, that final surrender to the sensations they were giving his body. Fred's lips covered Snape's again in another possessive kiss, and George's mouth descended, not to any of the places Snape so desperately wanted but instead to tease at the crease of hip and thigh, sliding his tongue along the sensitive flesh there, cheek brushing tantalizingly against Snape's balls and cock while he licked.

"Please," said Snape, not sure what he was asking for but knowing he'd beg much more humiliatingly if they kept teasing him like this.

"Soon, pet," murmured Fred, then he took Snape's lower lip between his own and sucked on it, scraping it with sharp teeth.

George lifted his mouth away and blew a hot puff of air over Snape's entrance, "We just want to make it last," George said, then licked a stripe from Snape's tailbone to the base of his cock.

Snape moaned and writhed, not struggling against the restraining hands so much as reminding himself they were there, holding him down, keeping him safe. He tried to offer himself more, spread wider, do _something_ , but George's grip was too strong, intentions too sure. George dipped his head down again, tracing patterns on Snape's balls with the tip of his tongue, then taking one into his mouth.

Fred swallowed the moan that resulted, his tongue tangling with Snape's, even the warm puff of breath from his nostrils tickling over Snape's cheek, feeling like some sort of caress. He opened and closed his fingers around Fred's hand, and the other went back to petting him in long, gentle strokes from neck to hip and back again, pausing whenever he twitched to explore those places that got the best reactions.

A part of Snape felt as though he should be doing something, reciprocating in some way other than responding to Fred's kisses, but they'd taken that ability away from him and all he could do was lie there and accept the pleasure they chose to bestow upon him. And moan, which he did again as George managed to get both of his balls in that wide mouth, laving them with wet licks. "Love the sounds you make," Fred whispered, then began to kiss his face, raining tiny pecks over his cheeks and chin, forehead and nose and even eyelids.

Snape whimpered.

George release his balls with an obscene sound, then lapped at them like a cat until they were shiny and aching for release. His mouth moved downward, then, and Snape whimpered again, hardly daring to hope for what was so obviously going to come next. Few of his lovers had wanted to so debase themselves, but oh George had the most wicked mouth and no fear at all of putting it wherever it pleased him. It certainly pleased Snape, wrenching a cry from his lips as that talented tongue flicked over his entrance.

"Tastes good," said George, the words tingling over Snape's sensitized flesh. They were followed by George's tongue, licking in broad strokes this time, over and over until Snape wrenched his face away from Fred's.

"Please, please, need you, please, anything, you can do anything, just take me, please, please!" Snape begged, truly struggling this time not to get away but just to get _more_.

Fred's mouth recaptured Snape's, that hand going to hold his jaw in place with a grip that would surely bruise, and the kiss this time was fierce, brutal. Claiming. "We'll have you, pet, never fear," Fred said, his voice holding a steel that Snape had never heard before. "We'll have you when we're ready, and not a moment before."

George simply kept at it exactly how he had been, maddening broad strokes over and over his hole until Snape thought he might scream or come just from that single point of stimulation. He couldn't really do either of course, his body too well trained to allow the latter and his mouth very thoroughly occupied with Fred's.

Fred seemed to enjoy kissing above all else, treating it like it was sex itself and he was definitely the one on top, nibbling and licking, taking Snape's mouth with his agile tongue, feeding off of Snape's cries of helpless pleasure. Snape began to tremble with need, with other emotions he wouldn't, couldn't admit to yet, and that seemed to be the signal they'd been waiting for.

George's tongue breached his body in one swift stab, going deep with an obscene wriggle, wet and hot and perfect. Fred's hand let his face go again, and wandered down to torment his nipples, Fred's mouth following by the scenic route, over neck and ear and collarbone, the hollow of Snape's throat and the curve of his shoulder. His teeth making surprise appearances at nothing like predictable intervals, leaving red half-circles and Snape shivering in their wake.

Fred's hand and mouth left him altogether for a moment as he stretched up and over Snape's body, bringing his cock within tantalizingly close distance to Snape's mouth. Snape raised his head and extended his tongue to try and get a taste, but Fred spotted him and shifted his hips away. "Naughty," he said with a wicked grin. He grabbed the small bottle Snape had left on the nightstand and asked, "Lubricant?"

Snape nodded wordlessly, stomach suddenly clenching in nervousness despite George's agile tongue still working busily in his arse. They both seemed to sense something was amiss, and George pulled away to rub at Snape's cock with his cheek, eyes tender and concerned. "Are you all right with this?" he asked, in the same gentle tone Snape had used with Harry earlier.

"We could go another way, if you need to," said Fred, squeezing Snape's hands where they were still trapped in his grip.

George let Snape's legs go, laid his head down on one bony hip and said, "We want you to feel safe with us."

Snape closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and centred himself. He opened them again and looked from one concerned gaze to the other, the realization that he _could_ trust them settling slowly into his chest like a small sun. The tightness in his belly eased and he relaxed into their grips. "Yes, safe," he said dreamily, letting his eyes fall shut once more.

Two mouths descended into the silence that followed, Fred's to suck a circle of marks around his neck like an ephemeral collar, George's to lick hot and wet up his prick. Fred's hand began to pet him, neck to hip over and over like he was gentling a nervous steed while George's fingers, slick with what he presumed was the potion, began to circle his entrance.

The frighteningly familiar passion washed over Snape in a wave, taking away his worries along with his dignity, his self-control and the last of his doubts. "Yes, yes, please, yes, fuck me, take me, use me, please!" he begged, parting his legs even wider, bracing them open on the bed so he could thrust back onto George's finger.

They took the words to heart this time, George adding another finger and scraping his teeth ever so gently up the length of Snape's cock. Fred's weight shifted and his cock probed at Snape's lips, shoving its way inside when Snape gasped in shock. This was exactly what Snape wanted, what he'd needed and not had for longer than he could even remotely begin to calculate with a third thick finger driving into his body.

Fred's weight held Snape's chest immobile while his free hand guided his cock in and out of Snape's eager lips, the angle making things messy and giving Snape little more he could do than open up wide and take it as Fred fucked his mouth. He was salty, tangy, and smelled of musk and soap and sex; his cock was hot and hard, the skin like loose velvet as it slid back for Snape's probing tongue. His knuckles were a rough contrast where they brushed against Snape's chin and cheek, the hands of a working man.

George's cock was thicker even than his fingers when it slid into Snape, the potion making sure there was no resistance at all, just the smooth glide of flesh into flesh. Snape was lost in a sea of sex, his mind floating in a haze of pleasure and submissive need. His entire body went taut when George's hands gripped him, gentler than Fred's but still callused and huge, so huge as they covered his hips completely. George's thrusts were deep and fast, a rhythm designed to shove them both over the edge swiftly and mercilessly.

Snape suddenly found himself completely filled as Fred leaned forward and slid relentlessly into Snape's throat, forcing Snape to swallow around him. Oh, it was perfect, and he hummed his contentment when Fred took up a rhythm with no relation at all to George's except for the same insistent drive toward orgasm. He had no other way of showing how much he enjoyed himself, his own pleasure utterly tertiary to the proceedings as they took him from both ends.

Fred surprised him by coming first, shouting, "Severus!" as hot seed spilled directly into his throat, pulling away at the last minute to smear come over his lips and tongue. "Good boy," he said afterward, staying right where he was and petting Snape's hair with his free hand.

"You're doing so well for us, pet," growled George, his rough tone at odds with the kind words of praise. His thrusts sped up and Snape realised that he'd been holding back so Snape didn't choke. In fact, they'd been considerate in every detail so far, giving Snape the illusion of helplessness, of being used and abused, while still taking the utmost care to give only what he could take and no more.

"Th-thank you," Snape gasped out, licking at the sticky, bitter fluid on his lips, "sirs!" Fred's come was delicious, a flavour he hadn't had in so very long and one that pushed him deeper into this forbidden role. George pounding into him was a wash of static that slowly pushed out all other thoughts, any possible ways to be besides used, taken, theirs. Fred's weight on his chest distanced him from it strangely, blocking his view of George and erasing from his mind all images of the twin who was having him by filling his vision with the twin who had just had him.

Snape's own prick was leaving smears of precome where it rubbed against his belly, jostled into erratic motion by George's relentless thrusting. He wanted, needed to come, but it was just as distant as the memory of George's face right now, his whole being focused on pleasing his new lovers. He didn't know what to do, or even if he should do anything, trapped as he was beneath Fred's weight and pinioned on George's thick cock.

George took that decision, too, away from him, spilling into Snape's pliant, willing body with a hoarse shout. Snape whimpered, and swallowed against the sudden fear that they'd leave him like this now that they'd done with him; pull out, get off and walk away. Something must have shown in his face, because Fred said gently, "Ssh, you're a good boy," one hand still gently smoothing through Snape's tangled, sweaty hair.

"And good boys get rewarded," said George, pulling out of him carefully, his weight shifting on the bed until that wicked, wicked mouth once again descended on Snape's cock, this time taking it in completely.

"Don't come yet," warned Fred, and Snape yanked his libido back from flinging itself gleefully over the edge.

Snape felt George's hands run up his body and then begin touching Fred, Snape's prick twitching as the memory of the two of them kissing over his shoulder flashed through his mind, and extrapolated itself into an image of them making love in a tangle of strong limbs and freckles. His orgasm was nearly inevitable now, and only years of control and some rather unsavoury thoughts managed to keep him from violating Fred's order.

"I'm ready," said Fred mysteriously, and Snape whimpered when George pulled off his cock, still holding it upright and lapping around the base. Fred slid downward and Snape nearly broke when he felt George positioning his cock at Fred's entrance, felt Fred sliding down onto him until Fred's weight was resting gingerly on his narrow hips. Instead of stopping, George simply moved his oral attentions to the place where they were joined, tongue sloppy and wet and indiscriminate as to whether it was licking Snape's cock or Fred's arse.

Fred gave a few experimental thrusts, rocking his hips until Snape was seated even deeper into him. "Fuck, that's good," he said, body stretched so that he could hold Snape's hands and still ride Snape's prick.

Snape moaned in response, the intimacy as unexpected as the pleasure, and craned his neck upward, hopeful for a kiss. He didn't have anything to say, really, couldn't form anything more than incoherent sounds of pleasure, and he wanted back that anchoring, ravaging mouth that had occupied his so thoroughly thus far.

Fred nipped at his lips, then said, "You can help, you know," in a tone that suggested both amusement and admiration for the self-control that kept Snape's hips still despite George's mouth, Fred's arse and his own obvious need.

"Yes, sir," Snape managed, impressed that he had any language left in him at all as he canted his hips first down, then back up again, feeling the long glide out and in, George's tongue still chasing at the place where he entered Fred's body.

"Oh good boy," Fred moaned, clenching around him. "He's long like you, but the curve feels so different, George," he murmured, then finally recaptured Snape's lips for another searing kiss, his mouth nearly as hot as the clasp of his arse around Snape's cock.

"Love the taste of you together," said George, the puffs of hot air more torment against Snape's most sensitive parts.

Snape felt his balls drawing up, orgasm almost inevitable as he pumped his hips, helpless against the pleasure they were offering him. He didn't know what they wanted from him, if he should beg or be silent or even if they'd be upset if he came, but he was nearly too far gone to find out, his thrusts erratic and desperate. He drove into Fred again and again, arching up off the bed as the pleasure grew beyond his controls, pushed beyond anything he'd felt before by the simple fact that it was entirely good. That he wouldn't be ashamed of any of it, come morning.

"Yes, want to taste your come in him," said George, nipping ever so gently at his balls. Snape cried out into Fred's mouth, that small bit of something like permission all he needed to leap gratefully over the edge and into the white-hot fire of orgasm. It flashed through him like lightning, every muscle going rigid as he spilled into the welcoming tightness of Fred's arse.

George was already licking at the small trickle that leaked out when he collapsed, panting, on to the bed, hands still held in Fred's implacable grip, prick still buried in Fred's tight arse. "Thank you, sirs," he said again, nothing else coming to mind but the rote responses drilled into him so long ago, and yet never meant so genuinely until now.

"Oh trust us, pet," said George, the words vibrating through Snape's cock and drawing a final shudder of pleasure from him.

Fred pulled away gently, George's tongue following eagerly, lapping at the seed that spilled down Snape's prick as he did. "It was our pleasure," he said, kissing Snape one last, thorough time before moving to cuddle beside him, letting Snape's hands go almost reluctantly.

George lapped at the head of Snape's cock a few more times, then crawled up his body to share the taste in a kiss that was shockingly sweet in contrast to Fred's fierceness. As Snape calmed and came back to himself, became grounded in his usual mindset and away from the floating freedom of submission, he began to mentally catalogue each flavour in the kiss. It was with a certain humour and a spark of lust that he tasted himself, Fred and George, the curry they'd had for dinner and the pleasure they'd just had in each other. "Mine, too," he said with a chuckle.

"You are quite a surprise," said George, nuzzling Snape's neck and curling on his other side, like being between warm, living bookends.

Fred made a soft noise of agreement, lacing his fingers through his brother's, both their hands laying on Snape's concave belly. "A very pleasant one, indeed, pet."

Snape arched like a cat and stretched muscles that wanted to try and stiffen up after all the unaccustomed activity, then put his arms around both their shoulders, feeling them relax minutely as though they'd been worried he wouldn't accept their affection, even after everything else he'd happily taken from them. "You'll be even more surprised next time," he said with a wicked grin, "when I take charge and you two get to be the pets. I've always wanted a matched set of purebred puppies, after all."

That got the laugh he expected, warm and affectionate from them both. Eventually one of them did a cleaning spell and they all moved under the covers, sharing lazy kisses and quiet conversation until they drifted off to sleep with Snape thinking that, for once, this was definitely something he could get used to.

It wasn't until morning that he felt the small twinge of guilt for having forgot, if only for a few hours, his obligations to and feelings for Harry.


	10. Rites of Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry stumbles on the road to maturity.

Harry woke with a sense of profound disorientation; the clouds skittering across the ceiling overhead combined with the comfortable warmth of his new bed to confuse his sleep-shrouded brain. He couldn't say what woke him, or if his body just thought it was time to get up -- he hadn't set his alarm, and he was all alone except for Hedwig, back from her nightly hunt and sleeping quietly in her cage. A bit of fumbling about for his clock told him the annoyingly early hour, and he sagged back into the mattress for a few more moments of peace before giving in to his body's demands and getting up.

He decided to take advantage of the early-morning tranquillity and have a bath, so he dug out some clothing for the day -- more jeans, a pair of interestingly blue-green silk boxers, and another t-shirt the twins had chosen, this time with a "Co-Ed Naked Quidditch" slogan. He found his towel, flannel, robe and slippers, and then he was ready for a bit of private time with some warm water and his morning erection.

Last night had been hard, in more ways than one, but in the end he'd had to conclude that no amount of rationalization would either make his jealousy go away, or make it right. He was enjoying the same freedoms and pleasures that Snape was, and no matter how much he might envy the twins for getting to touch where he couldn't, he couldn't blame any of them for taking advantage of the situation. Despite all logic, he still got a sick burn in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought about them together; perversely, it was almost always accompanied by a rock-hard erection, as the image of the three of them having sex was, all emotional turmoil aside, a very inspiring one. As a result, he'd done a great deal of wanking in the past twelve hours, even for a boy his age.

He revisited the image this morning, safely ensconced in a tub full of hot water and magical green bubbles the size of marbles, which gave off a pleasant aroma of crisp apples and made a noise much like bubble wrap when popped. He spread his legs, slicked up his hands and gave himself over to the simple pleasure of his own touch, exploring both his body and his mind, rolling all those newest fantasies over and around in his head like they were sweets that he was mentally tasting. He ended it by laughing himself breathless; when he finally sent himself over the edge, the spray of seed popped dozens of those bubbles in a riot of sound and scent. Once he caught his breath, he washed and got out, finally feeling ready to face the day.

Harry wandered down to the kitchen, trailing his fingers thoughtfully over the walls and wondering if they'd ever manage to erase the taint from the house completely, or if it would always have the pall of Dark magic that seeped through the bright new paint and made him shudder. The new bit of wall where Lupin had forcibly redecorated seemed strangely out of place, as though it hadn't quite soaked up the atmosphere of the place yet.

These thoughts were quickly forgotten when he arrived in the kitchen to find Snape at the table with four cups of tea and two scrolls, one of which was still sealed. Harry vaguely remembered the sound of an owl arriving at some point during his bath, and sat down across from Snape, recognizing the Gringott's seal with apprehension. "So, what do you think it's about?" Harry asked, pointing his own name in spidery writing on the Gringott's scroll.

"I expect it relates your godfather's will," said Snape. "Dumbledore mentions it in his letter." He gestured toward the other, his own name on the outside in the headmaster's familiar hand.

"I appreciate the tea," said Harry, taking a steadying sip and carefully avoiding both letters for as long as possible. "I don't suppose it'd wait until tomorrow?"

"I find it fortuitous timing that Fred and George are here now to provide you with the comfort I cannot," said Snape, voice tight. "You have some small idea of my feelings on this matter, and I do not wish to be the cause of further grief. I would suggest you take advantage of their presence."

Harry nodded, throat tight. He'd mostly put Sirius out of his mind over the last year, unable to function with the raw grief still welling up. He'd been dreading the memories locked in this house, but its complete rehabilitation had eased the sharp bite of returning to find it empty of his godfather. "What else did Dumbledore say?" Harry asked, clinging to the tea like a lifeline.

"You might as well read that one, too, as it mostly concerns you," said Snape quietly. "Would you prefer to assist me with breakfast first?"

Harry nodded, sipping at the tea again. He made no move to rise, eyes fixed on the shimmering golden blob of sealing wax as though the intricate embossing held some answers. All his other worries seemed so pale against the darkness of his grief for Sirius, the closest thing to a parent he'd ever known. He took a long drink of the tea, then nearly set the mug on thin air before Snape managed to get his attention. "Better not let me chop anything," said Harry with a tight laugh, sloshing hot liquid over his wrist as his hands began to shake.

Two sharp cracks echoed in the little room, and Fred and George were suddenly there, looking sleep-mussed and a bit damp around the edges. "G'morning," said George, sitting next to Harry and claiming one of the steaming mugs.

"What's up?" asked Fred, looking from Harry's grief-stricken features to Snape's tight, guarded expression.

Harry gestured at the scrolls sitting innocuously in the middle of the table. "Gringott's was quick with..." He stopped, unable to get Sirius' name past the lump in his throat.

George rubbed Harry's back gently, then exchanged a look with Fred. "Food first, then angst, right?"

Fred sat beside Snape, rubbing one of his hands up and down Snape's rigid spine. "You gonna be OK tonight?"

"I..." Snape looked faintly lost. "I cannot help him."

"You help him just by being here," said George. "You brought us to him, which a lesser man might not have done."

"You _try_ ," said Harry quietly, "which is more than anyone else has ever been arsed to do."

Snape closed his eyes and nodded. His face looked drawn, almost as haunted as it had when they were in the lab, every worry and burden etched in the lines of it. "Shall we eat first, or ruin our appetites?" he asked the group with something approaching his normal biting humour.

"Eat," said Harry definitively. Cooking breakfast was a familiar chore, one he could easily lose himself in and try to find his centre by giving himself over to the mundane. "Then we can go sit somewhere comfortable for the emotional torture portion of our morning."

They cooked quickly and ate quietly, mostly discussing small things, the larger issues looming over the meal and hurrying it to its conclusion. Finally, all the food was eaten, the plates washed, counters and table wiped clean. Snape made another huge pot of tea and Harry led the twins to the parlour, where they each took one of the comfortable chairs, Harry wishing wistfully for a long couch instead. He had a feeling he'd need someone's arms before this was over.

He put off the moment, watching as Snape prepared their tea, falling in love all over again with the economy of his movements, the grace and dexterity in his long, thin hands. He looked up and caught George staring too, and they both blushed and grinned. It was nice to have someone around who understood the appeal; it helped keep Harry from second-guessing his every new impulse. Some of these feelings were mere hours old, and felt loose and unsure in his chest, fluttering and fidgeting like birds in an unfamiliar roost.

Once they all had their tea, there were no more excuses. Figuring it best to just get it out of the way, Harry carefully broke the Gringott's seal, feeling a rush of magic as it identified him as the intended recipient. The scroll expanded to full size, words flowering on the page even as he unrolled it.

_Harry James Potter_   
_c/o Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster_   
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are writing to inform you of your involvement in the matter of Sirius Black's Last Will and Testament. It was his final wish that the bulk of his assets, those which were free at the time of his death and those which have since been released by the Ministry upon his official pardon, go to you. Three vaults, 711, 674 and 313, await your inspection at your earliest convenience; you may retrieve the keys by tapping this parchment with your wand. Another matter is also involved, but strong magic prevents its revelation even through the magic of the Will. We trust that you are aware and can, along with Albus Dumbledore, the other named recipient, figure things out._

_A small property in Wales has also been designated to Remus J. Lupin, as well as a stipend to be drawn from vault 313, into which the proceeds from the entirety of the Black family estate are generally deposited. This is included simply for your information, as Mr. Lupin has already been notified by owl._

_Any questions regarding this Will shall be directed to the undersigned, who doth decree it true magic, just wishes, and rightful property._

_Yours in honesty,_   
_Bolargin I'snozzler,_   
_Executor of Magical Wills_   
_Gringott's Wizarding Bank_   
_London, England_

"Wait, how can that be right?" asked Harry, slightly confused. The Will had been waiting in his parents' vault for years; how could it possibly designate most of Sirius' things to Harry, who hadn't even been born at the time it was written? Harry had already figured out that 12 Grimmauld Place was the thing concealed by "strong magic", hidden away by the Fidelius Charm and apparently left in their joint custody for the use of the Order. "I mean, did Sirius even own this house when his Will was written?"

"It is a magical document," said Snape. "Once the charms are set into the parchment, the writer signs the blank sheet in their own blood. Then, upon the moment of their demise, the will writes itself out, taking into account the person's final wishes and their actual property list. In this manner, there are rarely disputes, as the Will's magic is virtually inviolable."

"So, when Sirius died... this is what he wanted? To leave me another pile of useless gold?" said Harry, tears springing to his eyes. "He sets up Lupin in some tiny house with a tiny income, and leaves me more wealth than I could possibly need, and this freak house full of death and decay!"

"The Will is writ only when the recipient is beyond retrieval. He left you what he could in this world, because he was passing on to the next," said Snape tightly. He was once again gripping the armrests of his chair, this time from emotions much less desirable than lust and its restraint.

Harry's chest was so tight he could barely breathe, and he lashed out mindlessly. "God, I've suddenly become the heir to the fucking Black fortune and all you've got is platitudes?"

Snape's eyes flashed, but George laid a hand on his knee and whatever he was about to say died on his lips. "Harry, he's only trying to help," said George admonishingly.

"I know, I'm sorry," said Harry, face in his hands. He remembered the bit about the keys as the parchment crumpled rough against his cheek, and sat up, pulling out his wand. He took a deep breath and tapped it, and a small door opened in the empty space next to his name. Nestled in an impossible pocket were three golden keys, and he nearly cried at the irony that he'd been so excited to have just one vault key of his own only a few days ago.

"Oh god, I'm going to have to go down there," said Harry as they dropped, solid and real, into his hand. They were cold from whatever space they'd occupied while inside the parchment, and he shuddered at the memory of the chill not-breeze and whispering, sibilant voices from behind the Veil.

He curled down into himself, fists against his forehead, knees drawing up and jaw clenching. His stomach felt as though he'd been punched, sick and aching, and he couldn't seem to take a decent breath. "Why?" he whispered, "Why can't they just stay with me, instead of leaving me their fucking money?"

Fred left his chair and came to kneel in front of Harry, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back and arms. "Why," Harry continued, voice growing steadily louder, "is it that I miss them every damn day still? I'm grateful to be alive, I know my mum gave that to me, but why do I have to live without ever knowing what kind of mother she might have been to me? Everyone says I'm like my dad, but I'll never really know, will I? And Sirius, everyone's favourite golden boy in his youth except when he was torturing my l-lover, madman and escaped convict when he finally showed up in my life, forced to hide and finally choose a prison, this horrid little hole and all his worst bits of childhood instead of Azkaban and the Dementors."

"Harry," said Snape, and Harry realized that the twins were now on either side, with Snape on his knees in front of Harry's chair. "They weren't perfect, no one is when they're fifteen, but they deserved your love. And you deserved to know them, but life isn't fair, so instead you get me and a great sodding pile of Galleons, cold comfort at the best of times."

Harry slid off the chair and into Snape's arms, feeling the twins surround them much as they'd done back in his parents' vault. Harry finally let the tears come, great wracking sobs that shook his entire body and got salt and snot all over the front of Snape's nice shirt. It wasn't dignified grief, or even particularly adult, but instead all the deprivations of a decade with no friends and nothing to call his own but a cupboard full of spiders, finally finding an outlet.

They held him while he cried himself out, keys and parchment still clutched in his hands. In the end he fell asleep with tears still leaking out of his eyes, the letter from Dumbledore lying forgotten next to his teacup.

* * *

The first thing Harry noticed when he awoke was the soft thrum of a heartbeat below his ear. The second thing was that his eyelids were gummy and gritty from having fallen asleep crying, crusted with salt tears and goo. He disentangled his arm from the covers to rub them, and stopped, realizing finally that he was in a bed, curled up pretty much on top of someone, surrounded by warm arms and something very much like comfort.

"Wha?" he said intelligently, then he swallowed and opened his mouth to try again.

"Hush, Harry, we've got you," said a voice, Fred's he thought, though it was hard to tell when it rumbled through the chest beneath him.

The warmth at his back he'd thought was just blankets suddenly moved, and George nuzzled behind Harry's ear, then whispered, "We'll take care of you for a bit." Harry was fairly sure that wasn't supposed to have sounded quite as dirty as his brain made it, but he was, after all, sixteen and sandwiched between the first two men he'd ever had any kind of sex with.

"Naked care?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. He blushed and hid his face more firmly against Fred's chest, listening to the way Fred's laugh travelled through his bones.

"If that's what would help," said George, licking his ear and making Harry squirm. He pressed a kiss just behind Harry's ear, and Harry sighed softly, relaxing into Fred.

"I'm not sure if anything will help," Harry murmured, and broad hands began to stroke and soothe him. He suddenly realized he'd been stripped out of his shoes, socks and jeans, and left in the t-shirt and silk boxers, which were shifting interestingly over and around his rapidly awakening cock. Fred and George were similarly attired, their leg hair rough against his own barely-fuzzy limbs, Fred's cock pressing into Harry's hip and George's just now insinuating itself into the cleft of his arse, rubbing the silk of his pants over his hole maddeningly.

One of Fred's hands stroked his hair while the other found and toyed with a sensitive nipple, and George's hand snaked around the front to fondle Harry through his boxers. Harry was just beginning to melt into that state of unthinking bliss, prick hard and brain going to mush, when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" said Fred and George in unison, hands still moving while Harry tried to reassemble the scattered bits of his consciousness.

Snape's voice held an apologetic note that Harry might have marked on his calendar even a month before as he said through the door, "Dumbledore will be here in a quarter of an hour to meet with myself and Mr. Potter. I suggest you have him awake and dressed before the Headmaster arrives."

"Yes, Professor," they replied, voices singsong and impudent. Harry heard a muffled harrumph through the door and then Snape's footsteps retreated.

"Well," said Fred, giving Harry's nipple a sharp pinch.

George gave Harry's cock a squeeze, eliciting a whimper from his lips, and said, "We'd best be quick then."

Harry whimpered again, tilting his face up in hopes for a kiss. Fred obliged him with a rough kiss that nearly made up for the lack of time. Harry sank into the sensations, opening his mouth and pushing his body forward into the hands; a shiver of need ran through him when George whispered in his ear, "Can I taste you, Harry? I know we haven't yet, but I've wanted to for so long."

Harry nodded, moaning something like a yes into Fred's mouth, or enough of one that George took it for permission. All that wonderful warmth disappeared from behind him, but Fred rolled him into the hollow left by George's larger body, and Harry snuggled happily into the heat and softness. Fred continued to ravage his mouth as if that alone was enough like sex for him for now, while George slid his smooth pants down off his legs, then settled between them.

Harry gasped when George nuzzled at his balls, hands fluttering about from hip to shoulder to sheet, not knowing where to land. Fred solved that problem by capturing them both and pressing them into the pillows overhead, then biting his way down Harry's neck. George's mouth found his balls and he cried out at the shock of hot-wet-good that crawled up his spine. He spread his legs wide and lifted his hips in offering, wanting that mouth everywhere at once, wanting it to stay just where it was, sucking and licking and scraping delicate teeth over skin that had never felt so sensitive.

More teeth above, as Fred pushed up Harry's shirt and began to worry at his nipples, biting and licking and sucking hard enough to make Harry arch and moan. He nearly screamed when George's wicked mouth licked, not up as he'd half hoped but down, tongue ghosting over his perineum and circling his entrance with its slick, wicked caress. Harry whimpered, breath barely coming at all from a chest tight with desire so sharp it felt like a knife, his cock harder than he could ever remember, pulsing precome onto his belly in time with his heartbeat.

He felt as though he might snap in two just from wanting, the rasp of Fred's tongue over increasingly sensitive nipples sending sparks of pleasure shooting straight through his cock to meet the tingling rush of it coming up from his hole. George's tongue was spiralling slowly inward, pressing at the very centre of him like a thief easing open the only unlocked window of a house and stealing the last of Harry's breath away when it finally crept inside.

He got it back in a rush when Fred's teeth sunk into a nipple, sharp and poignant in contrast to the liquid pleasure melting his insides from George's wicked tongue. Harry hovered at that cruel edge, needing something, one last push to send him over. "Please!" he begged, not sure what for other than release.

Fred's mouth lifted from Harry's nipple and then, instead of moving back to the other one, Fred struck like a snake, capturing Harry's cock and swallowing it whole. George's tongue stabbed deep inside him, not quite finding that place but for once it didn't matter as Harry tumbled gratefully down, letting pleasure crash over him as he came down Fred's throat. He didn't even notice his hands had been released as he brought one down to stuff in his mouth, muffling the shout that escaped.

Fred swallowed around his cock, the pulse and squeeze of throat muscles milking Harry's pleasure for long, drawn-out moments. Finally he was utterly spent, and both mouths pulled away, leaving him feeling cold and empty despite the warm glow of satisfaction curling in his stomach. Everything heated right back up when Fred and George kissed, mouths meeting right over Harry's softening prick as they shared the taste of him between them. They broke apart reluctantly and turned nearly identical gazes onto Harry, lying mussed and sated on the bed, legs still spread and shirt rucked up to expose his pale chest.

"You're definitely good," said Fred, stretching out beside Harry, one hand coming up to rest over his heart.

"Enough to eat," George agreed, lying down on the other side, his hand cradling Harry's cock and balls like something precious.

Harry stole a kiss from each reddened mouth, tasting bitter salt on one pair of lips, and earthy musk from the other. He blushed at the knowledge that it was himself he tasted, and sampled each flavour again anyway. "You'll show me how to do those things, right?" he asked, rubbing absently at eyes still a bit sticky from sleep.

Fred and George exchanged equal looks of pleased surprise, grins wide on their faces, and George said, "Of course, Harry,"

"We'll teach you anything you like," finished Fred, hand stroking up Harry's neck to cup his cheek. One last soft, sweet kiss, and he rolled away and sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Wait, what about you?" said Harry, confused. He could feel George's erection pressing into him the way Fred's had just a second earlier, and he wanted very badly to take care of them as best he could.

George gave Harry a deep, thorough kiss, then grinned down at him, rubbing his nose. "We've done what we came to do," he said, then sat up, pulling the covers off completely and exposing Harry's still-damp bits to the chill air.

Fred turned with an equally smug grin, and then mimed tapping Harry with his wand. "Mischief managed," he said with a wink.

They laughed their way through dressing, George and Fred fussing over Harry until he looked a bit less debauched and more like a respectable young wizard on the verge of adulthood, or so they said. Harry personally thought he just looked the same as usual, even if the jeans did rather flatter his arse better than his old things. They were just engaging in a final bit of snogging when Snape's knock sounded at the door once again.

"Are you quite through?" said Snape, his voice quite a bit tetchier this time. "He'll be here any minute."

Harry disentangled himself and went to open the door, unable to stop the pink that rose in his cheeks. "All done, sir," he said, giving Snape his best innocent eyes, rather spoilt by the smirk gracing his kiss-bruised lips.

"Good," said Snape, his lips pursed in something that wanted to be disapproval but didn't quite manage his usual sourness. "You'll just have time to read this before he arrives, then," he added, handing Harry the familiar parchment of Dumbledore's letter.

"Right," said Harry with a sigh. Back to earth already, it seemed, and he shot a wistful glance back at the rumpled bed before following Snape downstairs, the twins trailing after. Harry plopped himself down at the foot of the stairs, motioning for them to go on into the kitchen without him while he read, giving him a few moments more to collect himself after the emotional rollercoaster his day had already been. He unrolled the parchment and began to read.

_Dear Severus,_

_I have enclosed a missive to your pupil from Gringott's which I believe concerns a certain person's Will, as it was accompanied by my own notification in that regard. The item we have been hiding is being left in the joint custody of myself and the boy, and I hope he will allow us to continue our restoration of it._

_In regards to the problem you have encountered, I will be sending Moody and Shacklebolt back to clear the room for you, with Dobby's assistance, and three more of the Hogwarts elves. Dobby assures me that with the extra help, the room should be completely bare and ready for new warding and furnishing in no time. They will both have missions to do after tonight's meeting, but will return within the week and stay on for a few days, until the job is finished._

_This of course means that your charge and his other tutors must practice utmost discretion until they've left. I will want to speak with you on his progress in this matter as well as going over his schedule of classes for the summer. I will be by tonight before the meeting, at 5:00._

_Yours,  
Albus_

Harry shook his head. Of course Dumbledore would want to talk about his "progress" with the twins, which Harry had half a mind to yell at him about; instead, he decided to bide his time, and wait for the right moment. When Harry finally came of age, he'd be able to tell the old man what he really thought, and although he'd still have to put up with Dumbledore's guidance in his education, and the restrictions on Snape, Harry would tell him to mind his own business when it came to Harry's sex life.

Harry sighed, rolling the scroll back up and staring off into the darkness beyond the staircase. He'd have to get up any minute now and go meet with the meddling old man, and he could already feel the tension creeping back into his spine, the old instinct to curl into himself and mumble whenever he was in the presence of adult authority.

"I know," said a surprisingly kind voice from behind him, "that you must be very angry about everything that's happened these past weeks." Dumbledore sat down next to Harry on the stairs, smelling faintly of lemons and ozone. "I never meant for things to end up this way, my boy, but somehow for all my intentions, I always seem to end up telling you the wrong things and keeping back the facts that you ought to have been told."

Harry shrugged; he couldn't really disagree, but he had no idea where this was going. "I cannot in good conscience allow a student under my care to have an affair with one of his professors, no matter how adult he has become nor how ardent the feelings between them," Dumbledore continued, and Harry tried to suppress the childish desire to cry unfairness. Some things really weren't possible, and a Headmaster condoning a teacher/student romance and still keeping his position, Dark Lord or no, was one of them.

"I know," said Harry, wincing internally at the sullenness left in his tone.

Dumbledore nodded. "But you don't have to like it, Harry, nor does Professor Snape."

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair, ending with his chin on his elbows. "So, what now?"

"Now," said Dumbledore, standing creakily, "we get up, go have some tea, and talk about your curriculum." He turned to Harry, an unmistakeable sadness in those faded blue eyes. "I hope that your lessons with the redoubtable Weasley twins will never, ever be called upon outside of such situations," he said, his voice sounding older than Harry could ever imagine being, "but if you ever need them, Harry, I hope you will be grateful to have been spared such a fate."

It was Harry's turn to nod thoughtfully, remembering the story that Snape had shared with him, the small pieces of a very broken past. "I realize that you're trying to save me from something really awful," said Harry, choosing his words carefully, "but you have to understand that it's... I just wish you didn't have to, you know, hear about it."

Dumbledore smiled, eyes once again twinkling with wry humour. "I assure you, Harry, I share in your devout wish that I will hear as little as possible about those particular lessons."

Harry found himself smiling back, feeling for the very first time as though Dumbledore acknowledged that he had a right, and even a need, to know everything, and even more, to have a life of his own. It was as if this conversation was the lock that Harry's golden vault key fit into, a rite of passage of sorts made up of small changes that added up to Harry the adult, a man capable of doing the things they expected him to do. Harry stood up, motioning for the Headmaster to precede him into the kitchen, where tea, Snape and his future were waiting.


	11. Methods of Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has three very different lessons.

Harry's meeting with Snape and Dumbledore had been less mortifying than he'd feared, mostly about schedules and educational goals, with the only mention of his "special lessons" an assurance that those were also regularly scheduled. And for all that he'd spent much of his time since learning of the Order's existence imagining their meetings, he found the reality quite boring. He couldn't help but fidget in his seat, tapping his toes against each other, playing with the hem of his new shirt, shifting his hips to accommodate the constantly changing state of his cock, never less than mostly soft or more than mostly hard. His mind kept straying from all the boring adult business to his future adult business with the twins, his second real lesson where hopefully they'd teach him more about those mouth things.

He still couldn't believe that George had actually licked him _back there_ , but it had felt so good! He was so distracted with these thoughts that it caught him by surprise when the meeting began to break up, people splintering into smaller groups to talk about their assignments, or coming by to give him a pat on the shoulder and wish him good luck with his summer lessons. He'd got a fair amount of sympathy when everyone learned he was to get special tutoring from Snape, though he kept his hands firmly in his lap while he looked up at all the familiar faces with something like appropriate woe. Finally, everyone had gone, and he was left alone in the room with the twins and a rather persistent erection.

"So," said George, coming up behind him to sling a casual arm across the back of his chair, squatting down so their heads were nearly level, "ready for that lesson?"

Harry was about to give an enthusiastic 'yes' when his stomach gave a loud growl, and they both laughed. "After dinner?" he said sheepishly.

George gave him a kiss and a grin and said, "Right, need to keep your energy up."

Harry, predictably, blushed. Which was of course when Snape walked back into the room, accompanied as usual by a whole host of inappropriate thoughts crowding into Harry's brain. "Did you need me to help cook, sir?" Harry asked, keeping his hands discreetly in his lap even though he had a feeling no one was really fooled.

"No, the house elves that the headmaster has been so kind as to lend the household took it upon themselves to make our evening meal," he said, a corner of his mouth twitching as though he wanted to smile or frown or maybe grimace in distaste, but his expression remained impassive.

"All right. Er, now?" said Harry, feeling the awkward boy again after dealing with the Order and all those people with their strange expectations. He'd almost forgot how everyone else viewed him, as some young saviour who was supposed to make everything all right, once he grew up a bit more. It was a strange sort of stereotype, much like the mental box they all shoved Snape into, though Snape did little to disabuse them of it and a lot to reinforce it by being disagreeable and cold to everyone foolish enough to approach him.

Harry shook himself out of his reverie, aware that Snape had said something vaguely affirmative before heading off into the kitchen with Fred. Harry got up to follow, George trailing along behind. "How did you and Fred end up seeing past Snape's..." Harry trailed off, not sure what word to fill in.

"Charming exterior?" said George with a snicker. "He gave us the abbreviated version of the lessons, and honestly, we've always had a pretty good sense of who really loathed us, and who secretly admired all the pranks we pulled." George paused at the door to steal another kiss and whisper, "He used to ask us about our inventions during detention. I think he was secretly proud that we learned all that stuff about potions from him just so we could make Nosebleed Nougats."

Harry laughed and followed George inside, to find Fred sitting with Snape, Kingsley, and Mundungus Fletcher, who never missed a free meal if he could help it. Harry sat awkwardly, bracketed by the twins and across from Kingsley's friendly, curious face. "Worried about your summer lessons, there, Harry?" Kingsley asked, taking a swig of whatever was in his goblet and smiling in what Harry supposed he thought was a disarming manner.

As far as Harry was concerned, Kingsley radiated the sort of authority you hoped never to run afoul of, and his attention always made Harry feel vaguely naughty. "Not really, sir. Sn... Professor Snape is a very good teacher, when he wants to be," he mumbled, serving himself without really paying attention to what was going on his plate.

"So he is," said Kingsley, sounding a bit more dubious than Harry thought was strictly polite.

Harry wanted to protest that Snape was really quite nice when you got to know him, but he was well aware that which Snape you got to know depended highly on how Snape felt about you to begin with. He'd spent years thinking Snape despised him, and been contradicted in the course of just a few surreal evenings until his whole life was turned upside-down by this new, desirable, _needful_ Snape. So Harry kept his mouth shut; instead he stabbed his food with his fork and found himself with a mouthful of stewed cabbage, which he gamely tried to pretend he'd intended to eat all along.

He washed it down with a big swig of pumpkin juice and tried to pretend that Fred wasn't trying to get Dung to acquire some illegal ingredients for their next big idea, or that George wasn't stroking his hand up Harry's thigh in a very distracting manner. "Are you, um, looking forward to your mission, sir?" Harry asked, getting a bit of kidney pie this time and hoping he'd remembered right, that Kingsley had been assigned something and that was why he'd stuck around.

"Yes, it's good to be active in the effort again," said Kingsley, tucking his own food away with evident gusto. Kingsley launched into an explanation that Harry could easily ignore, so long as he made the right noises at regular intervals and kept eating his dinner, avoiding the pile of cabbage he'd poked off to one edge of the plate.

After a few minutes of this, George reached past Harry for a roll and whispered, "I want to watch you suck Fred's cock."

Harry flushed bright red, hiding his reaction in a few gulps of pumpkin juice, and shovelling his food a bit faster after that. Snape caught his gaze a few moments later, something glinting in the depths of those black eyes that let Harry know that Snape was quite aware of Harry's predicament. Harry nearly gasped aloud when Fred's hand joined George's in groping him, the large, warm fingers cupping his cock while Fred gestured with a fork in the other hand, seemingly intent on talking to Mundungus the whole while. "I'll get you for that later," Harry murmured to George, snagging the salt as an excuse to lean in close and spreading his legs anyway.

George just chuckled and finished the last of his drink, then gave Harry's thigh a quick squeeze before his hand made a reappearance above the table which Snape noted, and Kingsley chattered on through. "Is there any pudding?" George asked, looking around to see if the house elves were lingering nearby.

"Dobby is making cream cakes for the masters, now that he's got help!" said an enthusiastic voice from behind them. Everyone turned to see Dobby standing there with an enormous tray of the cakes, balanced precariously on his spindly arms. There were a good two dozen small cakes on it, each one bursting with cream filling and covered in sticky frosting, with a single, perfect cherry on top. "Would young master Weasley be wanting his now?"

George smirked and exchanged one of those meaning-filled glances with Fred. "I think Fred and I will take ours in our room, if that's all right? Perhaps an extra for later?"

"Dobby is making plenty of extras! The young masters is having as much pudding as they like." He disappeared with a crack, and when he reappeared the tray looked a bit lighter, making Harry wonder just how many cakes had got left upstairs.

Kingsley had stopped talking with the arrival of the pudding, so Harry gave up on his own dinner, figuring no one would notice if he left the cabbage hidden under his serviette. Well, no one but Snape, who was watching him like a hawk, with that same steady gaze that Harry had always mistakenly thought was hate, but now knew held many more, far different things. "I think I'd like to go rest up, for lessons tomorrow, if that's all right?" he said, cursing himself for the utterly lame excuse.

"You do need to get plenty of rest, Mr. Potter," said Snape sardonically, the innuendo so oblique that only those involved got it. And only Harry was immature enough to let it put a flush on his cheeks and regret that his shirts were no longer big enough to cover his embarrassing problem, with everyone in the room looking expectantly at him.

"Oi, George, d'you have any of the new fireworks on you? Dung was wanting to see the new line, the adult ones," said Fred, and Harry made a swift, grateful exit as all heads but Snape's turned to watch George pull out a suspiciously-shaped cracker.

"We made it like this, so you don't need fire, see, you just give it a quick pull and the sparks come out the end, and turn..." George's voice faded out as Harry climbed the stairs, wondering if he should go bathe, or wait in his own room, or go explore the cakes left in Fred and George's, or just give up and actually go to sleep, as the twins seemed like they might be occupied for awhile with their diversion.

Harry needn't have worried; Dobby arrived moments after he reached his room, with a quick-scribbled note from Fred telling him to have a shower and come to the twins' room after. It also promised that, next weekend, they'd bathe him for part of his lesson, and those thoughts kept him hard and ready through his rushed ablutions. He was tempted to have a wank and take the edge off, but he knew it was that edge he had to learn to ride, the one practical reason why Snape and Dumbledore were putting up with him having a sex life at all.

He was nearly desperate by the time he got out of the shower and slid his still-damp body into warm flannel pyjamas, not bothering to button the top or try to hide the huge tent his prick was making of the front. He padded barefoot out the door and into the next room, where Fred and George had been installed for the summer. It was still sadly empty, so he decided to be a little bit naughty. His skin shivered with the risk of it as he skinned out of his pyjamas and slid, naked, into a strange bed, body thrilling with the unlikely possibility of being caught out.

The sheets were clean and crisp and smelled faintly of cedar, and Harry got a small twinge in his gut when he realised that the twins hadn't yet slept in them because they'd been in Snape's bed last night. He set the feeling aside, unwilling to waste time trying to sort out who he envied more, Snape for shagging Harry's first and only lovers, or Fred and George for getting to touch the man he... well, Snape. Instead he curled up in the slowly-warming bed and thought about how they'd make the sheets smell tonight, of sweat and sex and spicy Weasleys, the way the twins' bed had smelled before he left it the night before last.

Despite his earlier nap, Harry was already a bit tired, and before he knew it the comfort of the bed had overwhelmed the small adrenaline rush from being naked in it, and Harry began to drift off to sleep, lost in thoughts of sex and the twins, cocks and mouths and freckles and large, gentle hands.

When he awoke, it took Harry long moments to realize he wasn't still dreaming, surrounded as he was by firm, naked flesh and floating on pleasure with Fred's mouth wrapped around his cock, and George holding his hands down over his head while nibbling on his ear. "About time you woke up," George murmured when Harry's eyes flew open.

Fred pulled off Harry's cock long enough to say, "We've only got tonight," then swallowed him down again.

"Before we're gone for almost a week," George finished, the words a whisper of hot air over Harry's ear. George moved in for a deep, sweet kiss, and together they used their mouths to render Harry insensate in a distressingly short amount of time. Instead of drawing it out, though, they kept it up until Harry came, spilling his seed down Fred's throat, his cries into George's mouth.

Fred pulled away, licking his lips and grinning while George moved enough for Harry to see as Fred said, "Delicious."

Harry blushed.

"Now," said George, threading his fingers through Harry's so he was holding both of Harry's hands in one of his, "we're going to teach you to do that."

A slow grin spread on Harry's face and he nodded; there were advantages to doing this in the form of lessons, after all, and the taste of himself from Fred's lips was only one of them. "The benefits of a formal education," said Harry, still limp and pliant beneath them.

By the time the evening was over and he was falling asleep curled between them, Harry felt he'd got quite a good grasp on the basics. Next week, they'd even promised to finish teaching him to deep throat.

* * *

Monday morning was a flurry of stolen kisses, shared showers and hurried breakfasts, the twins gone to open their shop before Harry had ever properly awakened. Harry's skin still tingled with the memory of their touches when Snape finished his tea and stood. "Shall we begin with Defence, Mr. Potter?" Snape said formally, the chill in his voice shocking Harry into wakefulness.

"I... do I need my books or anything, sir?" Harry asked, trying to give his brain some time to cope with the change in Snape's demeanour, the dour schoolmaster back, if not quite in his full force.

Snape relented a touch at Harry's obvious distress, reaching out to lay a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I thought we'd start with a practical lesson, but you ought to get a quill and one of your journals."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, grateful for the reprieve. He finished the last of his own tea and took a deep breath, then turned and smiled up at Snape. "I'll just go get those, then, and meet you...?" He let the words trail off, realizing he'd no idea at all where they might have a practical Defence lesson.

"The small dining room on the first floor has been converted to a classroom for our use," said Snape, gathering the dishes and taking them to the sink as if he, too, needed something to do with his hands at times like this.

"All right, sir," Harry said quietly and made his escape, breathing out the awkwardness of it all and gulping in deep breaths of hope and determination. He took the stairs two at a time and rummaged through his things, blushing as he snagged his wand from his nightstand -- he'd left it there last night and forgot to retrieve it this morning, not yet used to being able to do magic in the summer.

A few deep breaths and a long moment spent staring at the charmed clouds drifting across the ceiling, and Harry went back downstairs to hunt for Snape. He poked his head in a few rooms before he found the one set aside for them. He got a vague impression of pale grey paint and wood flooring before his eyes settled inevitably on the one thing that seemed to take up most of his attention these days -- Snape. He was in his rigid Professor stance, no humour left to soften the line of his mouth, his eyes dull and flat rather than sparkling with mischief or glittering with desire.

Harry went in, knowing that this was as much a part of the man as the other side he'd been privileged to see, telling himself that he might as well reaccustom himself to Snape's disagreeable demeanour now, considering that this was the Snape he'd see for most of the year.

"I see you managed to find your way here all by yourself," said Snape sarcastically, and Harry had to remind himself that there was another side, and that love -- if it was love he felt for Snape -- accepted all parts of a person. Even the mean bits.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, keeping back the snippy reply that was threatening to come out, and ignoring the bit of his libido that said it was perfectly happy with Snape's tone, and would like to hear more of it, preferably while being spanked and called a naughty boy.

Snape raised his eyebrow at Harry's meekness, but fortunately didn't comment. Instead, he waved his wand and the two facing desks in the middle of the room parted ways and settled against opposite walls, leaving a clear space in the centre of the floor. Harry had a feeling he knew what came next, so he set his book, quill and ink on the smaller desk and took up a position opposite Snape. "Duelling today, Professor?" he asked, lips twitching with the desire to smile -- he'd heard far too many dirty jokes along these lines.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, duelling. I trust your skills have improved since your second year," said Snape, and only the slight tinge of humour in his eyes kept Harry from wondering aloud how Snape could possibly be like this with him anymore, after... well, everything.  
  
Harry struggled to contain his hurt and anger and instead took a pose he'd learned for himself just to teach the students of the DA, half a dozen shielding and offensive spells crowding his brain. "Ready," he said, forcing himself to breathe, to concentrate.

Snape took a mirror of Harry's pose, and began, "In a formal duel, there would be a third party present to tell us when to begin. However, you will seldom find yourself in such a situation these days -- not only are formal duels fairly rare, it is doubtful any would want to challenge the precious Boy Who Lived, either for fear of hurting you, or of being soundly trounced by whatever power protected you from the Dark Lord."

Harry watched Snape like a hawk, waiting to see if this was some strange tactic to get him off his guard. "Yes, sir, I understand," he said, when Snape seemed to require some response from him.

Snape nodded and continued. "In an informal duel such as the one we're going to practice now, the rules of conduct are usually he who shoots first and all that, coupled with an understanding that one generally does not expect to encounter an Unforgivable unless the person one is duelling with is a known criminal."

Harry nodded again, and then said, "So, most of my duels will be like this, only with the really nasty curses thrown in for good measure?"

Snape smiled coldly, and Harry shivered at the cruelty in it. "Precisely, Mr. Potter. I would not be so foolish as to try one of those on you today, but most Death Eaters will not hesitate to Cruciate or even kill you." Snape stood just a touch straighter, and Harry's grip tightened on his wand.

"You're not most Death Eaters, sir," said Harry, watching Snape's hands, his eyes, hoping for some sign of what he was supposed to be doing here. "Are we going on the count of three or something, sir?"

"No, Mr. Potter," said Snape, shifting ever so slightly, "we are going now. _Expelliarmus_!"

Everything felt as though it had slowed down, and Harry had no idea where he found the courage to cast, let alone the words to the spells. " _Protego_!" he yelled, following up quickly with a Stunning Spell that he knew would never get through Snape's defences.

Snape dodged the curse, though Harry thought it might have grazed him from the look of respect that came into his features. Harry hoped Snape would forgive him as he tried to wipe that look away with a quick succession of strange hexes Hermione had found in a book for him, ones that were odd and out of fashion rather than particularly Dark: _Cephalaspidea_ , which tried to turn Snape's clothing to slugs and did manage to slime up one of his sleeves; _Medusa Abla_ , which would have turned Snape's hair to harmless garden snakes had he not deflected it neatly back at Harry, who had to scramble to dismiss it; and _Mysore_ , which shot colourful ribbons from his wand and attempted to tie Snape up like a Maypole.

That last one, shockingly, was the one that prevailed; Harry ducked under Snape's _Tarrantellegra_ curse, grateful to be short for once, and the ribbons bound Snape's arms to his sides before he could get off another.

Harry was rather proud of himself, but if the smouldering anger in Snape's gaze was any indication, he'd be made to regret this victory before long. Harry dismissed the ribbons, and Snape cast _Scourgify_ on his beslimed robes, then gave Harry a distinctly appraising look. "I'm surprised your knowledge is quite so eclectic, Mr. Potter."

"Hermione's been helping me find stuff that no one remembers anymore in the library, sir," said Harry, checking himself for singe marks and trying to ignore the small itch in his spine that told him he rather wanted to dance a lively jig. He knew from experience that it would go away in a few minutes, though these near-misses were almost as uncomfortable in their own way as being actually hit, since you couldn't cast _Finite Incantatum_ on a spell that hadn't really taken effect.

Snape nodded, and pointed to Harry's book. "Take a note of all the spells used, and what was effective and what wasn't, even the near misses. I find that having one's sleeve develop an unpleasantly cold, wet, rubbery texture and a distinct wiggle is quite distracting, and that may have been what allowed your _Mysore_ curse through."

Harry grinned, pride filtering through beneath the resentment. Snape hadn't complimented him much in Potions, but now he was being treated, if not like an equal, then at least like someone who wasn't a complete moron. "Yes, sir," he said, and sat for a moment to note down the spell progression and the effects. When he was done, he looked up to find Snape watching him with an unreadable expression that gave Harry chills. "All set. What's next?"

"Another duel, of course," said Snape with a tone which distinctly implied that perhaps Harry wasn't as bright as he looked after all.

Harry tried not to take it to heart, as he stood and assumed the position again -- the duelling one, not one of the many others he'd rather assume for Snape -- and looked over at Snape expectantly.

The rest of the tutorial proceeded in a similar manner, half a dozen duels followed by Snape's critical analysis, and Harry taking notes. In the end, Harry managed to win once more, though Harry privately thought that Snape had only won the third duel through blind luck, as Dobby had popped in and startled Harry just as Snape's _Impedimenta_ went off. Snape, of course, said that one would have all sorts of distractions in a real battle and it was no excuse.

Harry did his best not to sulk, which seemed to be the theme for the day with him. It was, he supposed, as good a lesson as any -- life rarely went his way, and it was much better to chin up and bear with it than spend all his time railing at the unfairness of it all.

It still didn't stop him from resenting Dumbledore a little when he was ushered back into the kitchen for a Potions lesson before lunch.

* * *

Harry had been happy to be given the afternoon off, though he'd had to fight for any free time at all when they'd drawn up his schedule. Eventually they'd agreed on a light schedule concentrating on five -- well, six -- subjects: Occlumency, Defence, Potions, Transfiguration and Charms, plus the much-anticipated Etiquette lessons.

Tonight would be the first of those, as well.

Harry stood nervously in front of the mirror and looked at himself again; he'd elected to have a bath after lunch, and was now wearing those maddening silk boxers, this time in a liquid golden hue. They were the only thing he wore under the simple burgundy robes he'd bought, and it made him feel naughty, knowing it would take very little effort for Snape to lift the hem and tug down the pants in order to bend him over a table.

Unfortunately, those naughty thoughts telegraphed themselves in the form of a very obvious tent in the front of his robes. Harry glanced at the clock, happy that he'd given himself enough time to take care of the problem he'd known would come up, especially once he'd slipped into the smooth, sensual boxers and felt them caressing his cock and bollocks almost like a lover. Which made him think, now, of Fred holding Harry's balls in his palm while George sucked Harry's nipples, both refusing to touch Harry's cock until Harry successfully managed to take Fred's prick into his throat at least a little. They'd taken his own desperate lust and turned it to Harry's advantage, using it to motivate him to learn the skills he very much wanted to master, and he'd found that it had been easier to ignore his gag reflex when the rest of his body was burning with such acute need.

Harry leaned back against the bed, still watching himself in the mirror as he lifted the robe and pulled the boxers down just enough so the elastic pushed his balls up into his cock. He stared for a moment at the picture he made in the mirror, all pretence of innocence gone with his legs spread just so and his body exposed. He wrapped his free hand around his cock and stroked, just the way he'd always liked, then slipped his other hand under the fabric of his robes to pinch and torment his nipples just as roughly as Fred and George had shown him he could enjoy.

He allowed himself to dwell on everything he'd learned, the joys of his own body and the sublime thrill of giving pleasure to others as well. He'd licked and fucked George's arse with his tongue until the versatile muscle had grown too tired for even the simplest speech, then watched as Fred plundered the same hole with his own tongue. He'd even come once from nothing more than Fred's tongue in his arse and George's mouth on his own.

That memory was enough to trigger him now, and he barely managed to keep his robes clean as he spurted all over his hand and the floor with a soft moan. Fortunately a quick spell could get rid of the mess -- unlike with clothing, where nothing but actual washing seemed to quite get the stain out. Harry tucked himself away and straightened his clothing, looking once again to see how just-wanked he appeared and then figuring that if it was as obvious to Snape as it was to him, at least it would provide Snape with some distraction.

The clock showed five minutes to the hour, so Harry sighed, grabbed another of his new journals along with quill, ink and wand, and made his way down to the parlour.

* * *

Snape was already there when Harry arrived, leaning against the mantle with a drink in his hand looking elegant and uncomfortable, reminiscent of the last time Harry had seen him in his quarters. "Good evening, Professor," said Harry formally, trying to get into the spirit of the thing and pretend he was here to get picked up for the sort of encounter that he was, ironically, expressly forbidden to have with Snape.

Snape turned and his signet ring glinted in the low light where he held the glass in his right hand, giving Harry a bit of a shiver -- if he remembered properly, that meant Snape was wanting to top tonight, a situation Harry devoutly wished were allowed. "Good evening, Mr. Potter," he said, his voice formal but tinged with an edge of heat that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. Snape's eyes swept over Harry's body, from his low house boots to his unruly hair, lingering at places that twitched embarrassingly under the intent gaze. "You're looking well this evening," he fair purred, stalking over to Harry in a decidedly predatory manner.

Harry definitely felt like prey, and he had to clear his throat to keep from squeaking when he replied, "Thank you, sir, you look quite fit yourself." Harry figured it was a bit heavy-handed for supposedly subtle flirtation, but then, Snape wasn't exactly going for subtle himself.

Snape's eyes grew hooded and he glanced at Harry's hands, his clothing, and appeared to be contemplating something. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. You may call me Severus if you like," he said, turning toward the bar that had been opened and set up, presumably by the house elves. "May I offer you a drink?"

Harry had no idea how he'd handle anything remotely like the amber liquid swirling in Snape's grasp, but he thankfully spotted some familiar bottles in one corner of the cabinet. "Just a butterbeer, si- er, Severus, please." Harry remembered at the last minute to add, "You may call me Harry if you'd like, as well."

"Excellent," said Snape, displaying his arse to remarkably good effect as he walked over to the bar and poured Harry's drink into a tall, elegantly curved pint glass. "Are you a chess player, Harry?"

Something in the way Snape said his name made Harry absolutely sure that they weren't talking about the game with pieces and a board, and Harry remembered their earlier talk about chess as a metaphor. "Yes, sir, though I'm not a very experienced player," he said, then bit his lip at his slip -- he never could get the hang of not calling Snape 'sir' anymore.

"That's quite all right, Harry, I'm sure I can give you a handicap," said Snape, gesturing toward the two chairs by the fire with the board already set up between them. "Black or white?"

This, too, Harry knew the correct answer to, Snape having explained that the more submissive, and often less experienced partner would take the position usually reserved for the weaker player. "White, if you please, Severus," said Harry, wondering if he'd be fifty and still trying to find those who wanted to be black to his white, or if he'd switch as Snape had. If Harry would be alone, then, as Snape was now, though even Snape wasn't nearly so alone as he'd been a week ago.

"I do prefer black these days," said Snape, sitting on that side and looking over his players. "Perhaps... a rook will be enough?" He took the piece off the board and set it aside, much to the consternation of his other pieces, whom he hushed with a wave of his hand.

Harry knew enough about chess to know it was a middling handicap, both to take the rook and give him white, and it made Harry wonder how, precisely, it fit in with chess-as-flirting as Snape had explained it previously. "I, er, expect so?" he said, revealing his ignorance in the simplest possible way, feeling his stomach clench as he wondered just how much of this charade Snape would make him stumble through.

He was oddly relieved, then, when Snape laughed. "You did well, for a first time, Harry. You were obvious enough in noting my token that I felt comfortable to proceed even though you weren't wearing one, which is not uncommon for young wizards who don't wish to advertise their choices quite so publicly until they've decided that young witches truly aren't for them."

Harry slumped back in his chair and shot Snape a bit of a glare, sipping at the beer. "You gave me a turn, there, acting like I was a particularly plump rabbit and you the wolf out hunting," he said plaintively, though he was unable to keep his face straight through the whole thing.

"Trust me, Harry, in this world that is exactly how many men will see you, and treat you," said Snape, looking worried before he dropped back into lecture mode. "You did well in your responses, up until the end there -- it's good that you were honest about your lack of experience but didn't advertise your virginity, you remembered the significance of the piece colours, and as soon as you felt out of your depth, you let me know. A real suitor would have considered it sign either of poor breeding or simply inexperience, but of course as I am your tutor, it was inevitable that we'd come to such an impasse."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, making a few notes in his book as Snape spoke. "So, what's up with the handicap thing?"

Snape grinned a bit wickedly and said, "It would be a subtle way of probing your true level of inexperience. Were you truly a virgin seeking someone to deflower him, you would have asked for my queen instead, and I would have felt quite honoured to be considered for such a delicate task."

Harry blushed. "So, how much does my experience with the twins count towards, er, my handicap?" he asked, making more notes.

"There is an entire system, much of which we will dispose of as you will not need it once Fred and George are done with you and we've released you into the wild, so to speak," Snape replied. "A true untouched virgin might ask for a queen-side handicap, though realistically speaking one so pure would not generally be looking for company in such a manner anyway. Asking for a capped knight or even both rooks might be more appropriate to your current level of experience, considering the lesson plan imparted to me for last night."

Harry's face grew much, much redder, and he sank down into his chair just a bit. "So, if you'd done it but only a few times, you'd ask for a pawn or something?" he asked, staring blankly at the page before blurting, "How much did they tell you?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry and shifted in his seat. "They are keeping me up to date while preserving your privacy as much as possible. All I know is that they were to teach you... oral skills. This morning they informed me that you did quite well, and they've found a way to use your... unique nature as a teaching tool."

Harry hid his face behind the book for a moment, remembering, feeling the tent return to his robes. "Yes, sir, that's... about the size of it. Er, so to speak."

Snape snorted, and Harry risked a peek to see him attempting not to laugh. "Yes, well. A pawn would be appropriate for the situation you describe, especially with the education you are receiving in the other arts of the flesh."

"All right, so I agree to the handicap... then what?" said Harry, setting the book down and squirming a bit until he nearly whimpered at the caress of silk against his cock and bollocks.

"Then, Harry, we would play, and I would attempt to use my wit to seduce you to my bed, using yet more subtle innuendo to discover what sort of bedroom games you're amenable to." Snape paused, and Harry blushed and moved a pawn, which Snape answered with a pawn move of his own. "Your tendency to call me 'sir' despite having been invited to a further intimacy would be taken either as a reluctance to be seduced, or a desire to be dominated. I, of course, know it is the latter, but if you're not careful a suitor will take it as the former and become discouraged."

"Yes, sir," said Harry with an impish little smile, knowing Snape wouldn't miss the implications of that specific reply. "How would I indicate I really wasn't interested after all? Politely, I mean."

Snape raised his eyebrow; that obviously hadn't been the question he'd been expecting. "By maintaining a polite distance conversationally, playing out the entire chess game and then taking your leave as though there were no other meaning, or even conceding the game and taking your leave, if you find the man's company particularly distasteful," he said.

"You'll teach me how to indicate my... er, preferences... without coming out and saying I'd like to be..." Harry blushed, unable to continue, finding it discomfited him as much as Snape to say such things.

"I will, though you'll need to be able to communicate them to me before I can teach you how to communicate them politely to others," said Snape with a wicked smirk, and Harry knew he'd definitely lost this round.

"Yes, sir," he said again, sipping his butterbeer and trying to think. After a long moment, he grinned triumphantly and said, "Well, why don't you start with the basics and we can go from there? Because I'll need to know them all so I don't accidentally agree to something I don't want, right?"

Snape laughed and said, "Don't think this gets you off the hook, it just means you'll only need to tell me your more exotic interests." He sat back and sipped his drink, and Harry took the time to make a chess move while Snape gathered his thoughts.

Snape answered the move absently, then nodded and sat up. "Take notes," he said sharply, and Harry nodded and got quill and ink ready. Snape launched into a somewhat baffling list of possible sexual practices and the ways to propose or refuse them while Harry scribbled frantically, too busy writing to ask questions or really even process the idea that Snape considered the negotiation of group sex to be one of the basics.

Eventually Snape wound down and they ended the evening by actually playing chess, with Harry asking idle questions in an attempt to make Snape blush, and Snape doing his best to make Harry squirm with the answers. Snape won the game, mostly because Harry was too busy thinking about those answers in the context of Snape, himself, and a large well-equipped bedroom. "So," said Harry, when they'd stood up and restored the room to its former arrangement, "does it matter who wins the game?"

Snape looked over at the chess set, now disassembled for the night, the pieces tucked away in their little padded velvet compartments, awaiting the next battle. "Generally speaking, the game is usually conceded by the man who was approached initially, as a sign that he's interested and ready to retire and engage in other, more private amusements."

Harry looked thoughtful, then nodded. "What's for the next lesson, then, just more practice?"

"Hardly," said Snape, shaking his head. "Chess is far from the only method of approach, so next time I will be demonstrating to you other ways in which a man might make his interest known to you. We should also talk about your token, and what form you would like for it to take."

Harry nodded; privately he'd decided long ago that he wanted no other token than Snape's signet, marking him as belonging to Snape and avoiding these sorts of conversations forever, but realistically he knew that Snape might not want him forever, and these were things he'd need to know if he were to end up doing this on his own. "I expect there's things in my vault," he said, "Er, vaults. Though I wouldn't want to wear the Black crest, I don't think."

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "We can't risk taking you back there so soon, but a carefully worded letter would allow me access to bring some items for you to examine."

"Sounds good," Harry replied, then found himself abruptly out of reasons to prolong the conversation. "Er, thank you again. For all this," he said, gesturing uselessly.

Snape nodded once more. "You are most welcome, Harry. It is, oddly enough, my pleasure to teach you. You are a most entertaining student." He paused, a smirk alighting on his features before he added, "Well, except in Potions."

Harry could only laugh and agree, as he was still pretty much pants at Potions, though he concentrated more now than he had bothered to previously, wanting to impress Snape as much as possible. "Yes, sir," he said impishly, then turned to escape into the hall before Snape decided to tease him about something that would make his rebellious body cease cooperating and embarrass him even further. "Good night," he said in a singsong voice as he headed for the stairs.

"Sweet dreams, Mr. Potter," Snape called after him, voice warm with humour and something akin to affection.

Harry had a feeling that they would be, for once.


	12. A Dose of Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's second day of summer lessons.

If Monday had been a pleasant surprise, then Tuesday was a particularly disagreeable reality check. Harry couldn't seem to concentrate during Charms and Transfiguration lessons in the morning, his mind wandering to the previous days' events and mostly down into his pants. He was taken to task so many times he'd practically forgot why he'd ever thought he liked Snape, and by lunchtime he was heartily glad that he had a Snape-free afternoon to look forward to.

The kitchen table was set for two when Harry came down, though Snape was nowhere to be found. He sat heavily, serving himself from the platters the house elves had laid out, containing more food than he and Snape could probably eat in a week. He was just biting into a piece of steak and kidney pie when Snape walked through the door, looking, if anything, even more unpleasant than he had during lessons. "It seems," said Snape, sitting heavily and giving Harry's half-open mouth a look of disgust, "that a number of your champions are concerned that I'm planning to spend the summer abusing you."

Harry's eyes went wide at that, and he quickly chewed and swallowed, mouth gone suddenly dry. "Nothing's happened, has it?" he asked, visions of Ron using his newfound height advantage to try and bully Snape, or Remus or even Kingsley offering to stay the summer and give Harry a bit of unwanted 'protection'.

"Just a few impertinent owls," said Snape disgustedly, serving himself from the dishes available and putting a small pile of greens on Harry's plate as well.

Harry made a face, but acknowledged that he probably ought to have them, considering what his diet had been like for his last few weeks at the Dursleys'. "Sorry," he said, blushing at the inadequacy of it. Snape had gone out of his way to make Harry at home here, to give Harry comfort when he needed it and, if Harry were honest with himself, discipline when he needed it as well, though perhaps a bit more of the latter than was strictly necessary. It wasn't fair that Snape was now taking flak for giving up his own summer for Harry, though Snape did rather ask for it by being so prickly around the other Order members.

It was, of course, this thought that must have shown on his face, because Snape made a disgusted little sound and said, "I'm sure I can cope as I always have."

"Will, um," Harry paused and took a soothing sip of pumpkin juice, "will you get a lot of people bothering you once we're, er, together?"

That seemed to shock Snape out of his foul mood, as he looked up at Harry with something like amazement. "I expect that, should you still want me after this fiasco, we shall deal with them together." Snape ate a bite of greens and added quietly, "Don't forget, we've yet to have your Occlumency lesson tonight. You may give up on me completely after that."

Harry shrugged; it was true he wasn't exactly looking forward to the lesson, but he thought he might enjoy having Snape see what Harry looked like when wanking with Snape's name on his lips. "If the previous six years didn't do it," said Harry, "then I doubt you'll manage to scare me off with one day of lessons."

Snape snorted, but that seemed to have been the right thing to say, because he began to eat with much more enthusiasm. Harry copied him, and the silence stretched between them comfortably, until Snape set down his fork with a quiet finality and said, "I shall be spending the afternoon helping the elves with the old Potions laboratory. Moody and Shacklebolt should be along in a few days to assist me with the more difficult tasks, and I suggest you stay well away until the room has been sterilised and re-warded."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, still working away on his own lunch, shovelling food in as quick as he could get it down. He couldn't go flying, but he thought he might lock himself in his room and have the sort of wank that Snape would blush to find in his mind.

"You might consider revising," said Snape, with a tone that said he had a pretty good idea of Harry's plans.

"Maybe after," said Harry around a mouthful of greens. He swallowed, wondering when he'd allowed Ron to influence his table manners, and forced himself to slow down and have another long drink of juice.

"Indeed," said Snape. He drained his goblet and stood, leaving his dishes where they were. When Harry gave him an odd look, Snape added wryly, "The elves have expressed displeasure with me for attempting to clean up after myself."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Harry, trying very hard not to laugh at the image of Snape being scolded by an obsequious house elf. Fortunately for him, Snape chose the dignified route and exited just before the first giggle escaped. He was still laughing when Dobby popped in to ask him if he would need any assistance with his afternoon activities, which only made him laugh harder.

Maybe the day wasn't going to be so bad after all.

* * *

Annoyingly, Dobby chose to spend the afternoon cleaning and straightening upstairs while the other two house elves assisted Snape in the cellar, which drove Harry to the library to escape Dobby's incessant good cheer. He ended up curling up in a corner with a book on Occlumency and one of his Snape-mandated notebooks, taking notes that he suspected wouldn't make much sense, come tomorrow. Still, he got a few things out of it, and wondered if Snape would be any more forthcoming with actual advice now that they were... whatever they were.

Eventually, he managed to get absorbed enough in the book that he nearly missed tea, having to be roused by an overexcited house elf who'd been afraid that 'Master Harry Potter' had gone out without permission. Harry trudged downstairs to find Snape questioning Dobby closely. "You can let him go, I was just in the library," said Harry, sitting down with a head and neck ache that felt as though his brain had too much in it and was weighing heavily on his shoulders.

The look of disdain Snape gave him was just par for the course of the day, and he sat down silently, disconsolately, with obscurely-worded explanations of walls and barriers and clarity jumbling themselves around in his head a bit like white noise. There was little conversation as they ate, though of course the dreaded lesson would come soon after, and really that seemed like communication enough for Harry, for today.

When they finally went upstairs to the same grey room they'd used for Defence, Transfiguration and Charms, it was just as bad as Harry had been fearing. One whispered _Legilimens_ , and Harry was buried in memories he didn't want to relive, of Cedric in the graveyard and Dudley with the Dementors in the alleyway, of his cupboard and his lonely spot in the cafeteria as a child. It was as if the mood of the day had directed Snape to his very worst moments, from being caught wanking by his Aunt and punished by making him take only cold showers for a month, to the very wet and unsatisfying kisses he'd shared with Cho before he'd known that girls were not, in fact, his thing at all.

The very worst part of all was not that he ended up on hands and knees in the classroom. Even with no chance whatsoever that Snape might take advantage of the position, the worst part was the pity he saw flash through Snape's eyes before they shuttered to their usual instructive coldness. "Right," said Harry, sitting up and silently telling his head it could stop spinning any time now really. "Right. So I'm obviously doing it all wrong, and I spent the whole afternoon reading and although I've got lots of things like 'clarity of will' and 'walls of the mind' stuffed into my brain, I've got no idea how to actually _do_ Occlumency. And since you have generally stopped being so, er. Will you try to explain to me what I'm doing wrong?"

Any traces of pity were washed away in exasperation and disgust. "I have been explaining this to you for two years, Potter. I would expect even you could have got it at least marginally straight in that time."

"No you haven't," said Harry, recklessly. "You attack me, and yell at me, but you never _explain_ anything!" He was flushed, panting, frustrated nearly to the point of rage with his inability to master this stupid art, all because nothing Snape said about it ever made any sense to him.

Snape looked just as furious as Harry expected him to, eyes glittering dangerously as he stalked over to Harry in measured paces, like a predator moving in for the kill. "And just what is it you wish me to explain, then? I tell you to try to keep your mind clear, and yet you always come to me jumbled and unfocused. I tell you to try to resist me, and sometimes you do, but sometimes, like today, you just buckle under, give up, and then whinge to me after that I'm not fair to you. Life isn't fair, boy, and I can't explain it any better than I already have. Clear your mind. Learn to recognize your own thought patterns, and shove out anything alien. Learn to keep your secrets buried instead of bubbling on the surface, to think about something other than the thing you least want me to see."

Harry forced himself to really listen to Snape's words and try to fit them into the context of his experiences thus far. "So, I use thoughts I don't care if you see as, what, some kind of barrier between you and the stuff I really want to keep secret?"

Snape sat back and blinked. "Yes, Potter, though a more advanced Occlumens uses nothingness as his barrier, blankness."

"Right, but I'm not advanced for shi- er, much at all, so let me try this. I'll pick something I know I don't want you to see, and shove something at you I do want you to see in its place. Or, er, I'll try, anyway." Harry wasn't quite sure he had the way of it, but it would at least be more fruitful than gasping on the floor without a proper shagging to make the ignominious position worthwhile.

"All right, Mr. Potter," said Snape, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "Let us see if we have finally managed to break through that thick skull and build something useful inside. _Legilimens_."

Rather than mindlessly resisting, Harry found the memory of himself tossing off in the bubble bath, surrounded by the scent of crisp apples and buried in thoughts of Snape with the twins, imagining what they might be doing, what they might do with him. He slipped the rest, all those dark things brought forth by the mood of the day, behind the image of him wanking, using it like a shield.

There were a few long moments where he felt Snape pushing at the edges of the memory as if trying to find a way out, to see what was hidden beyond it, but Harry held fast, feeling his prick grow hard in his trousers as the memory progressed. Just as the Harry in his mind came in a cascade of white droplets and popping bubbles, Snape released him.

"Only you would use wank memories to hide your dark secrets," said Snape, shaking his head, something like a smile ghosting around his lips. "I would doubt your ability go about with such thoughts in your head at all times, but you are sixteen and no doubt the Dark Lord is already bored with visions of your adolescent fantasies."

Harry couldn't help it, after everything else today he broke down laughing at the idea of Voldemort rummaging through his head and encountering wank fantasies at every turn. "I hope he likes Oliver Wood!" said Harry, remembering how often he'd thought of the former Quidditch Captain during those last months of his fifth year, when it became obvious that Cho's crying wasn't the only thing wrong with her as far as he was concerned.

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry and said, "Is this a recent development, or..."

Harry didn't even let him finish. "Fifth year, when Voldemort spent all that time rummaging about in my head. Though as I said once before, the twins do guest star an awful lot."

"Good," said Snape, with a finality that made Harry's heart leap and then do a little jig of joy in his chest at the idea that Snape might, briefly, have been jealous of Oliver Wood, just because Harry used to wank over him.

After that, the rest of the day didn't seem so bad, and Harry made absolutely sure to spend his evening bath making a new memory to shove at Snape for Thursday's lesson.


	13. Prurience, Practice & Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape gives the twins a lesson on dealing with Harry.

"We need your advice about Harry," were not the words that Snape had been hoping to hear when Fred and George cornered him alone in the library late that Sunday afternoon. He'd decided that, for Harry's benefit, he would spend Sunday nights with the twins while Harry would enjoy both Saturday and the occasional Monday nights in their care, and he'd been hoping they wanted an early start.

Snape forced himself to stop sulking and pay attention to the matter at hand. "What is it?" he asked, leading them to a comfortable little settee in one corner of the library, where he took the middle. Hope, he thought wryly, did spring eternal.

"Well," Fred began, snuggling quite happily up on one side where he could exchange those opaque glances with George, "Harry asked us to tie him up."

Snape nodded, and George picked up the thread. "It was incredible, of course, but..."

"...Worse than we'd expected," Fred finished. "I know you don't want to hear the details, but I think you need some of them for this.

"It's all right," said Snape, resigning himself to a very frustrating afternoon. "If you require my assistance, then there's nothing else to be done." He paused, then let a small smile find its way out to ease the seriousness of the conversation for a moment and added, "You can always take care of anything that might come up."

Fred chuckled. "We can, so long as Moody isn't playing I Spy."

"Why are he and Shacklebolt here, anyway? It was hell sneaking Harry into our room last night," George asked curiously, fingers teasing up and down the line of buttons on the front of Snape's robes.

Snape rolled his eyes and explained, "They're helping to undo some rather nasty magic down in the old potions laboratory. We finished this morning, however, so they should be leaving after dinner." He devoutly hoped so, anyway; there was no way he'd be able to relax and enjoy the things he'd been planning for this evening with Moody and that blasted magical eye lurking about.

"Right," said Fred, giving Snape's thigh a squeeze. "Well, anyway, we'd brought some rope and other things."

"For tonight, more than anything," George explained quickly, as Snape's eyebrow rose.

"And we tied him in a pretty exposed position," Fred continued, rolling his eyes at them both.

"Arms out, and ankles to the headboard so his arse was in the air," George explained, holding up one arm and ankle in an absurd demonstration.

Snape swallowed hard and said, "I can imagine." He could, too, the spread of creamy white thighs with the shockingly black thatch of fur at their apex, Harry's bollocks looking helpless and tempting, his little opening exposed completely by the pose, pink and wrinkled and oh so very inviting. "How did he react?"

"We could've done anything to him," said George, looking over at Fred with real concern in his eyes.

Fred saw Snape's face, then shook his head and explained. "You don't get it. He would've let us do literally anything to him. Fuck him, hit him, cut him up or even kill him, and he wouldn't have protested one bit."

"Once the blindfold went on, it was even worse," said George, slumping in on himself a little.

"Usually, you rely on the sub to, you know, tell you when something hurts too much, or is doing damage you haven't agreed upon," Fred explained quietly, and Snape grew suddenly very still.

"Harry's all right?" he asked, looking from one to the other sharply.

"He's fine, he didn't even realize what had happened, and we know a lot of healing spells," said George, gaze fixed resolutely on the spot where his fingers kept un- and refastening a single button near Snape's breastbone.

"I was biting him," said Fred quietly. "I mean, I wanted to see how much pain he really liked, you know? Like with you and the nipple pinching. Only he liked all of it, more than I expected, and the next thing I know I've got blood in my mouth and..."

"I saw the red and pulled him off," said George quietly, stroking his hand over Fred's where it rested on Snape's thigh. "He didn't take a chunk out or anything, and I don't think it'll have scarred, we couldn't find the mark this morning, but... it was awful."

"We don't know what to do," said Fred helplessly, looking up into Snape's face with his own troubled gaze, as if searching for answers there.

Snape nodded, then leaned back just a little, pulling the two men closer to him more for comfort than anything else. "And Harry didn't even notice anything had gone awry, and I suspect protested when the biting stopped, correct?" he asked, trying to stay clinical about this.

"Right, he... he said it had felt really good, and when I looked, he'd..." Fred stopped and shook his head.

"He'd come," said George quietly. "We spent the rest of the night on nothing but pleasure, and he loved that just as much and didn't even seem to miss the painful parts, but..."

"He scared you with his ability to transmute any sensation into pleasure," Snape finished for them, getting startled looks of agreement from both of them. "I expect you'd find it possible to tickle him until he came, though some kinds of pain by their very nature would preclude orgasm," he said, not wanting to speak of his own experiences with being whipped until he'd come himself dry, or having his testicles gently crushed under a booted foot until he felt sick with pain and wanting, and unable to achieve release.

They both seemed to understand somehow anyway, snuggling in closer, petting him in a manner he'd have found mortifying just a week ago, before they'd showed him such understanding in the bedroom, alongside their skill and prowess. "So, how do we teach him not to be what he is?" George asked plaintively.

Fred spoke quietly, his voice holding resignation as well as a sense of something akin to wonder. "It seems such a shame, to make him deny such a treasure. If we'd known, with practice... he'd be the perfect..."

"It is a shame," said Snape, long fingers stroking down one freckled cheek, looking sallow and strange against the fair health of Fred's skin. "But he doesn't have to give that up entirely, he just needs to learn to rein it in."

George sighed and nuzzled at Snape's neck, arm going around Snape's waist as he said, "We just feel out of our depth to teach him."

"When we don't really understand it ourselves," said Fred, leaning into Snape's other side.

Snape nodded; it was a problem, because he wasn't allowed to take a direct hand, and yet he was the only person involved who truly understood what Harry was battling. "Tell me more about his reactions, what he does and when he goes into each state of being," he said, hoping that he could glean enough information like this, by proxy.

"Well, when he got to our room he was already excited," said Fred with a grin. He and George exchanged glances, and then settled in to tell the tale, which was, they had to admit, quite an erotic one aside from the one hitch.

"He was flushed, nearly panting, and hard in his pyjamas, which he shucked off as soon as the wards were up."

"Then he made his sly little suggestion about bondage, and his eyes were gleaming."

"He was practically bouncing with glee when we agreed, he was so happy. It was funny, when I asked if he'd been fantasizing about it for a long time he said no, he'd only just thought of it but he wanted it so very much."

Snape nodded. "I'm sure he would have come to the idea on his own even without our influence, it's a very compelling one to the right personality," he said, his own breath coming more quickly and shallowly as he remembered his own early yearnings in that direction, innocent and trusting as he'd been. It had all been so _good_ then, before it had all gone so wrong.

Fred nodded and picked up the thread of the narrative. "Well, we stripped off too, which he loves, he's always looking at us with this hunger..."

"Like we're the tastiest treacle tart he's ever seen and it's all for him," George interjected with a wicked little grin.

"And then he flopped down on the bed and asked us where we wanted him. Just laying down like that seemed to do something inside him, especially once he spread himself out like a banquet."

"He was just really... available, I guess. You could already see in his eyes that he trusted us, and was eager for whatever new things we'd teach him."

"When the rope came out he got this glazed sort of look, like last week when we were snogging him in the kitchen." Fred and George exchanged wicked little grins at that memory, and the ones after it that were called up as well.

"I remember. So, neither of you had touched him yet?" Snape asked, though he had to swallow twice to get the words out. His prick was rising rapidly and he had to shift in an embarrassingly obvious way to keep it from being uncomfortably bent.

George grinned and adjusted it just a little for him, the hand hot and enticing through Snape's trousers before it was taken away. "We'd given him a few kisses, but nothing major. This was pretty much all from whatever was going on in his head, I think."

Snape nodded, and Fred continued. "I wasn't really watching his face while we tied him up."

"We were more concerned about making sure the ropes weren't too tight or anything, and that we had quick-release knots where Harry could get to them if he needed to."

"An ironic precaution, considering he would neither think to use them with you, nor have them present were he truly held captive, but a laudable one," said Snape with a wry chuckle.

"Well, we didn't think of that," George said tetchily.

"Anyway," said Fred, rolling his eyes at both of them, "Once we got him tied up he was still talking a bit."

"He made a crack about it being time for us to molest him."

"The blindfold came next and it was just, like, the icing on the cake. He went from joking around to melted Harry in about two minutes, with very little stimulation. After that we couldn't really get a whole lot of response from him."

"Other than, 'oh yes, oh god, more,' and that sort of thing, anyway."

"And he seemed to not just tolerate but actively enjoy basically everything we did, spanking, biting, fingering, licking, pinching, everything. No pain too big, no pleasure too small to get a rise out of our Harry."

Snape sighed and said, "That's enough." Though he might want more details of their exploits, he felt it wouldn't be truly fair to ask for them just to satisfy his own prurience. "I believe the step you need to work on is keeping Harry thinking, perhaps by keeping him talking while you touch him. I'll show you a few techniques tonight, while you're being my little playthings."

"Can't we be your playthings now?" said Fred, batting his eyelashes rather absurdly.

George's hand unerringly found the bulge in Snape's trousers and began to massage it. Snape was just considering their offer very seriously when he heard the library door open and they all sprang apart guiltily. "Bugger it all," George swore, adjusting his clothing to cover up his arousal as best he could.

Snape crossed his legs and stayed sitting, pulling a small book out of an inner pocket and hoping very much that he seemed to be reading rather than pretending not to have been contemplating molestation of his former -- and current -- students.

"You in here, Snape?" came Kingsley's deep voice echoing through the room.

Snape breathed a sigh of relief; nothing they'd done would have fooled Moody and that damnable eye of his, which Snape had always suspected got used for a lot more peeping and other tomfoolery than Moody admitted. "I'm back here with the twins," he called, grateful that the slim volume he'd tucked away earlier was actually a collection of essays on magical culinary arts he'd meant to give to Fred and George, if they pleased him later.

Kingsley found them easily enough; when he rounded the bookshelves he was changed out of his dirty work robes from earlier and his dark skin fair gleamed. "I, ah, wondered if we were done?" Kingsley glanced at the three of them, looking very much as though they'd had a conversation interrupted, but, Snape hoped, not quite so _personal_ a conversation as had actually been taking place. "I told Meredith from Accounting that I'd take her out if we finished up in time for dinner..." He trailed off and looked at Snape with an odd combination of curiosity, hopefulness and challenge.

"I believe that Ha- Mr. Potter and I can attend to the remaining tasks without your assistance," said Snape, forcing his voice into its usual sneering tone. "Go meet with your little paramour, so I may continue what remains of my holidays in peace."

Kingsley rolled his eyes and gave an ironic little bow. "I'm off, then," he said, turning to Fred and George. "It was an unexpected treat to see you two again, thanks for the discount on the Whiz-Bangs."

"Not a problem," said George, giving Kingsley a wink.

Fred shot him an equally conspiratorial grin and said, "I take it you've plans to use them?"

"I've got an idea or two, yes," said Kingsley with a grin. "No one will notice the nibbled packaging, so it works out for all of us." Kingsley gave Snape one last look of disdain, then turned on his heel and walked out, whistling tunelessly as he went.

"One down," said George, plopping back down on the sofa next to Snape and toying with his buttons again.

Fred joined them, hand immediately finding and kneading Snape's thigh and said, "One to go."

"What's actually wrong with the fireworks you sold him?" Snape asked, one eyebrow raised as he attempted to studiously ignore the hands roaming over his front.

George chuckled. "It really was just a bit of nibbled packaging," he said, leaning in to demonstrate on Snape's neck.

"We felt it would be good to have an in with an Auror," Fred explained, his hand making its way up Snape's thigh as he spoke. He captured Snape's mouth in a kiss that left no question at all as to his intentions, cupping Snape's prick and stroking it through the many layers of cloth.

Snape let out a low moan and spread his legs, then thought he might scream in frustration as the library door squeaked open once more.

"Professor? Are you in here?" called Harry's familiar voice, and they all three relaxed, though Snape did push their hands away.

"We've got him trapped back here," called out George, slipping his other hand under Snape's arse where Harry couldn't see, long fingers seeking the warm crease.

Fred stole another kiss, giving Snape's cock a quick, final squeeze before pulling back with a look of patently false innocence. "You can borrow him if you'd like, though," he said in a singsong voice, earning a glare from Snape.

Harry was grinning when he appeared between the stacks, looking rather like he'd just awakened from a nap with his cheeks flushed and eyes sleepy. His hair always looked as though he'd just woken up to Snape. Or been shagged. "No fair molesting him where impressionable youths could see and not be allowed to stay and watch," said Harry, leaning against one of the shelves with a muffled yawn.

"Were you seeking me for a reason, Harry, or is this a social visit?" Snape asked, trying to maintain his dignity with Fred and George both nuzzling at his neck and ears.

"Why don't you come sit in my lap, Harry," said Fred with a playful wink.

George gave Snape a bit of a tug closer and said, "I can hold onto the professor so he doesn't forget himself and ravish you."

"You forget," said Harry, stepping forward to sit, of all places, at Snape's feet, his own tucked under him in a pose that wasn't _quite_ kneeling, "I want him to ravish me." He looked up at Snape with an impish little grin, then relented and answered Snape's question as well. "I woke up from my nap and had an idea about our next Etiquette lesson."

"Oh?" said Snape, not nearly so archly as he might have under other circumstances.

Harry snickered, and Snape supposed his attempt to sound open to suggestion had been only partially successful. "Well," Harry said, chewing on his lower lip in a most inviting fashion, "I thought maybe we could do a bit of a practical, with all three of you, er, vying for my hand. You said that might happen sometimes, and I don't really understand how I'm meant to choose."

"That's a great idea!" said Fred, reaching down to ruffle Harry's already-disorderly hair.

George leaned on Snape's shoulder and gave him a disturbingly effeminate look of pleading and said, "Can we, Professor?"

Snape thought about protesting for a moment just to see what they'd offer for bribery, but found himself relenting under Harry's earnest gaze. "That's a very good idea, Harry," he said, allowing himself the liberty of stroking just once through the soft mop of hair. "How about tomorrow night I have the elves set up our usual classroom to better resemble one of the private clubs, and we can entice you to join us for a light supper and see who can win your favour?"

"That would be brilliant," said Harry, leaning his head against Snape's knee in a manner obviously meant to seem nonchalant, though Snape wasn't fooled for a moment.

"Excellent. In fact, if I may borrow your Weasleys for a bit on Monday afternoon, we can visit Gringott's and bring you some tokens to choose from," said Snape, mind ranging ahead. He actually hated the idea of Harry wearing any token other than his own, but he owed it to the boy to take him through the full measure of the dance, and not just the steps that led where Snape wanted them to go.

They lapsed into silence, hands moving idly to pet and caress wherever they pleased, Fred and George's ranging over both Snape and Harry, Snape's seeming stuck in Harry's hair with the other trapped behind Fred's larger bulk and tracing patterns against the warm back.

It came as no surprise at all when the door sounded for a third time, though this time no one bothered to move much, other than Snape's hand dropping to his own lap. He was sure Moody would only be insufferably smug if Snape made the effort to struggle up out of the couch to maintain his dignity, since he was also sure Moody could see them just fine from the door. "Can we help you?" said Snape, in his nastiest possible tone.

The unmistakeable sound of Moody's gait moved closer, until his shaggy head peeked out at them. "Awfully cosy, aren't ya?" he said, eyeing them all warily and staying well out of reach and half-hidden by the bookcase. "Since when does Snape allow anyone closer than arm's length?"

"Since these three learned to bathe, which is more than I can say for you," Snape replied, heartily tired of having his lovely afternoon interrupted, though he couldn't complain too much about Harry's addition to the group. Even if it did mean he wasn't going to get blown in the library as he'd hoped.

Moody's eye rolled alarmingly, and he snorted. "Just make sure his disposition doesn't rub off on you, eh, boys? One of him's enough," he said, staring as though he expected Snape to suddenly turn into an impostor.

"Yes, yes," said Snape testily. "You were looking for us for a reason, I presume, other than to irritate and offend?"

"Ha! Yes, as that's your job around here," said Moody, and just to be contrary Snape put his hand back atop Harry's head. Snape got a great deal of amusement at Moody's shocked look, one gnarled hand moving toward his wand. "I was just wantin' to tell you I've been poking around that storeroom next to the potions lab, and it'll probably need just as much care. I don't have time, I've got to leave right after dinner, but I'll owl Dumbledore to arrange for another day we can take care of it."

"And you couldn't wait for dinner to tell me this?" Snape asked, stroking Harry's head in a way he was sure would be reported to Dumbledore and cause him to pay dearly for the sublime pleasure of simultaneously stroking the boy and offending Moody.

"Dinner's up, that's why I came lookin'," said Moody, still eyeing Snape suspiciously. "You boys sure he's really Snape?" he said finally, making all three of them laugh.

"He's really Snape," said George, flexing the hand still wedged under Snape's bum.

Harry just turned a cynical gaze on Moody as if daring him to object to a perfectly innocent touch that Harry obviously enjoyed, which gave Snape no end of satisfaction. "I assure you I am who I appear to be, Alastor," said Snape, sliding his hand away with a sigh and giving Harry a gentle nudge. "You have simply never before seen me in company I actually enjoy."

Fred obviously couldn't resist that, and he gave Moody an absurd leer and said, "We're always enjoyable."

Harry stifled a laugh and stood up, dusting himself off unselfconsciously. "He's still his nasty old self," said Harry, turning and offering Snape a hand up, which Snape took with a little smirk. "I've just worn him down over the years."

"I've grown resigned," said Snape dramatically, allowing Harry to pull him up out of the chair and hoping his full robes would disguise both his persistent erection and the exact placement of Weasley's hand on the cushion.

"Well, I've grown hungry," said Moody irritably, turning around though Snape got the distinct impression the eye stayed fixed on him.

"Dinner it is, and then we'll let you be about your business," said Snape, putting one hand very lightly on Harry's lower back to encourage him on his way. On the whole, though he was sure he'd have to deal with several absurd conversations with Albus, Snape found that baiting Moody was almost as fun as baiting Potter had once been. He made his way down to the kitchens with an amused sort of anticipation; he hadn't realized how much fun it would be acting kindly toward Harry in front of other people, and he was looking forward to an entire meal of practice.

* * *

After all the naughty schoolboy innuendo at dinner, Snape half expected Fred and George to be decked out in their old Hogwarts robes when he finally slipped into their room, especially since he'd wasted far too long reassuring Moody that he was still himself and not a Polyjuiced impostor. Instead, Snape found them nude and entangled on the bed, kissing and caressing with the same unselfconscious affection that had originally drawn Snape to them. He shut the door behind him silently and leaned against it, arms akimbo, then cleared his throat loudly. They sprang apart with gratifying expressions of sheepish lust, and he raised one eyebrow and said, "Starting without me?"

Their manner stayed contrite, though an edge of their customary mischievousness crept in as they scooted closer together again, pressing their bodies into a continuous field of pale skin and ginger hair, liberally sprinkled with freckles as though they'd had an accident with the brown paint. George batted his eyelashes and said, "We grew so lonely without you, sir."

"We needed something to keep us warm," Fred added, toying idly with one of George's peaked nipples.

"I believe you need a reminder of your place," said Snape dangerously, removing from his robes a thin metal stirring rod he'd retrieved from the kitchen before coming up. "Especially after all the teasing you've been indulging in tonight." He strode forward slowly, slapping the rod against his palm to test the whippy, stinging little device. "Getting me all hot in the library," he purred, "and then not following through."

Their eyes went wide, but their rampant pricks didn't wilt a centimetre, so Snape proceeded. "Present those naughty arses of yours," he said, adding with a mind for Harry's later tuition, "You will count each strike, then thank me for it and ask for another. You must both manage all three things each time, or we will take the count back to zero." He allowed an evil grin to blossom on his normally dour features as he watched them scramble to comply.

"Yes, sir," they said in unison, their eyes wide. Fred positioned himself so he was on hands and knees at the very edge of the bed, and George chose to stand and bend at the waist, though not so close so as to risk taking peripheral damage from one another's punishments.

Snape came around behind and began to run the blunt end of the rod, tipped with little round ball, over and under their low-hanging sacs, first George's and then Fred's, urging their legs wider with little thwacks to the inner thighs. "Twenty each, I think, for your cheek," said Snape, positioning himself on the left at Fred's side, so that he could easily reach both of them to punish whomever he chose on each particular strike.

"Yes, sir," they said again, not quite so simultaneous this time, though their eyes were locked on one another.

Snape took a moment just to admire the picture they made, broad backs and smooth skin, not sweating yet though the room was warm enough to make Snape wish he'd worn a bit less clothing. He took a moment to strip off his outer robe and adjust his hard prick, promising the overheated flesh its moment of truth later. For now, he had a lesson to give. "Don't forget to count," he said warningly.

He saw them both tense and smiled grimly, then brought the rod down in a whistling arc onto Fred's upturned arse, right across the fleshiest part. Fred and George both jumped at the smack it made as it hit, and it left a thin white line that swiftly turned red, though Snape knew that this particular instrument would leave no lasting marks. "O-one, sir, thank you may I have another?" Fred blurted out in one stammered breath, his arsecheeks tensing over and over in a manner that put Snape in a mind to skip straight to the fucking, and George's tongue flicking out to wet lips gone dry with anticipation didn't help.

Instead, he brought the rod down again, this time on George's arse, in precisely the same spot. Again, they both jumped, though George's voice was more steady as he recited, "One, sir. Thank you, may I have another?"

"Excellent," Snape praised, running his fingers over Fred's line, already blurring and fading a bit. He'd definitely have to hit harder next time. "The point of this exercise," he began, then paused to bring the rod down onto Fred's arse an inch higher but mostly parallel to the first mark, leaving time to listen to Fred's stuttered recitation. He then continued smoothly, "Is to keep your mind engaged even as I am making use of your body." George took the next strike, and Snape observed the sweat beginning to gather and glisten on their backs, along their spines. Snape took this moment to fondle George's marks a bit, slipping the tip of the rod into the welcoming crease to tease at his entrance.

George moaned softly and arched back, which Snape decided meant he was ready for the next blow. Snape stepped back and delivered it with a bit more force, very near the spot where George's opening was hidden. This got him a lovely little gasp before George managed the proper response, and a strangely disappointed whimper from Fred. "Don't worry, pet, you'll have yours," he said, then delivered it post haste in the same tender spot.

Snape continued in this manner, listening to their voices grow increasingly breathless and uneven, watching the sweat slide over their skin, stopping every few strikes to fondle and tease, to be sure he wasn't hitting too hard or too soft. Soon enough their thighs and arses were both crisscrossed with red stripes, bodies trembling with strain and overload. "You're doing well, both of you," he purred, stopping to stroke their backs, close enough to smell them, clean and musky with a hint of soap and spice. He gave into his libido just enough to lean in and lap at George's skin, teasing his tongue at the top of the crease and tasting salt and skin, then moving over to lick Fred from balls to tailbone -- but not delving deeply enough into his crevice to touch the needy opening.

After all, this was supposed to be punishment for teasing him.

A few more strikes and they'd both stammered out their twenty, and he was grinning and admiring his handiwork while they struggled to stay in place like good little boys. "Now," he said, sitting on the bed between them with an arm slung over each back, "tell me how you feel, one at a time." He trailed his fingers over their skin, tracing the welts, teasing just along each crease but not too deep, curling around and under the heavy sacs gently enough not to disturb their sway.

Fred swallowed once, then again, and finally said, "I'm... fuck, so turned on. And I want you to p-plunge your fingers in me, or lick me anywhere at all. It hurts but it's hotter than it is painful." He paused, then looked over his shoulder to meet Snape's glittering gaze. " _Please_."

"All in due time," said Snape, giving one welt a little pinch. He turned to look over the other shoulder and saw George's needy face, so he prompted, "And you?"

"Y-your touches make my s-skin so sensitive that everything feels like it's burning, l-like I'm trapped in a heat shimmer with sunlight striping my skin so bright it's lines of pain," George said between stolen breaths, unabashed in his language. "I want to be used by you, cooled or heated up to combustion, something, anything," he said, then paused and bit his lip before echoing his brother. " _Please_."

Snape slipped his middle fingertips down, first pressing up behind two nearly-identical sets of balls and getting two nearly-identical groans for his troubles, then moving in a slow glide up and in until he was circling those lovely, needy openings. "The real question isn't whether or not I'll have you both," he said, with a wicked grin that only he got to see, "But who gets to go first."


	14. Tokens and Symbols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry puts some of what he's learned to use.

Monday morning came, and Harry was surprised to find the twins still around, sipping tea and talking quietly with Snape when Harry stumbled down to breakfast. They turned and grinned at him, and he sat between them with a little blush at the memories that always seemed to haunt him now, of everything that had passed between them. "So," he asked, snagging a mug of tea and some toast, "why aren't you off selling naughty candy to little children?"

"We decided to skive off," said George, popping a bite of scone into his mouth fairly dripping with jam and Devon cream.

"We're going to be Snape's Little Helpers allll day," said Fred, stealing a bit of the scone from George's plate.

Harry giggled and sipped his tea. "It takes three teachers just to get things into my thick skull, eh, professor?"

Snape raised one eyebrow and declined to comment, which Harry thought was probably for the best at this hour. He served himself from the various platters in front of them, amazed at the sheer quantity of food the elves had prepared. "Are we going to have three elves all summer?" Harry asked dubiously.

"I believe so, yes," said Snape with a little smirk. "I expect they feel they should compensate for your usual meagre summer fare."

Harry dug in, while the twins exchanged smirks. "Getting a lot of your hungers taken care of this summer," Fred teased, giving Harry's side a little poke.

George poked his other side, "Not that we mind helping out, quite the opposite."

"And you'll never let me forget it," said Snape, rolling his eyes. "I believe we're all having a banner year for such things." He was eating sparely all the same, some toast and jam and a few slices of bacon going well with his contemplative look. 

When they sniggered, Snape shot them all a look which quelled them enough to eat in silence for a bit. Finally Snape put the last bite of bacon into his mouth and drained his tea. "I believe there will be time for you two to check for any unexpected marking before his lesson," he said, giving the twins a significant look that, while it didn't escape Harry, didn't mean anything to him either.

"Excellent," said George, and began wolfing down the rest of his meal.

Fred leered and added, "We promise to bring him to Defence in one piece."

"Mostly, anyway," George clarified between bites.

Somehow, Harry wasn't quite so worried as he might have been. Instead he finished his own food at a pace honed through years of knowing that if he didn't eat what was on his plate quickly enough, it would disappear down Dudley's bottomless maw. "We'll be on time," said Harry, though with his mouth full it was more like, "Woobie ah tie."

"I will assume that was some sort of assurance for my benefit," said Snape with a warm sort of mocking distaste, so different from the usual coldness that it gave Harry a little shiver. "Don't be late, or it will throw off our entire day."

"Yessir," said Harry, swallowing before he spoke this time.

The twins also nodded dramatically, red hair bouncing absurdly and identical impish grins on their faces. Snape swirled off without another word, taking his not-quite-scowl with him.

"Is it just me," said Harry, after a long draught of his tea, "or is he less grumpy today?"

The twins exchanged oblique looks and said in unison, "He's less grumpy."

Harry's eyes went round as he realized the implication of that. "Oh," he said, then giggled. "Well, I'm glad you're taking good care of him, even if I am a bit jealous."

"Don't be jealous, Harry," said George, scooting up until he was practically in Harry's lap.

Fred scooted close on the other side and said, "He thinks of you all the time."

"Last night," George whispered, hand on Harry's thigh and mouth close enough to feel the hot breath on his ear, "he gave us a little lesson."

"And tonight, you're going to find out some of the things he wants to do to you," whispered Fred, before nibbling on Harry's ear.

Harry moaned, all thoughts of food gone as their hands began to roam over his body, waking up his nerves in the most stimulating way. He waited until they began to undress him before protesting, though the last thing he wanted to do was keep those big, warm hands from going anywhere they wanted. "I-isn't... get caught!" Harry gasped, using the very last of his self-control.

"He knows what we're up to, Harry," said Fred, sliding his hands down into Harry's trousers. 

George lifted Harry's shirt off his unresisting body and added, "He told us to, remember?"

"We've got to check thoroughly," said Fred, and they both urged him standing and got his trousers down around his ankles, trapping his feet. Dishes were shoved aside and he was bent over the scarred wooden table as the last of his resistance melted away. He'd fantasized about this at every meal since moving in, though usually Snape had been the one bending him over like this in his daydreams.

George knelt behind him and nipped at one cheek, then kissed the other softly as if to apologize. "Smooth and creamy white," he reported, before diving between to kiss and lick far too fleetingly at Harry's entrance.

"Not a mark on him," said Fred, his tongue wending a path down his spine only to meet George's mouth at his tailbone and kiss, both their cheeks resting against Harry's heated flesh.

"God, need you, please," Harry begged, already lost to the fantasy of it, the feel of their cheeks brushing and jaws moving as the kissed over the feast of his arse.

"D'you think there's time?" Fred teased, breaking the kiss.

George nuzzled his way around, burying his face in the lush thatch of Harry's curls. "He'll be quick, I can tell."

Fred's answer was to drop to his knees as well and bury his face where George's had just been, lapping at Harry's greedy little opening while George sucked for a far-too-brief moment on Harry's balls. George's mouth travelled up Harry's cock slowly, kissing its way along the winding vein until it could suckle and lap at the head; Fred's hands came up to spread Harry's cheeks wide and his tongue dived deep into Harry's body. Harry's legs were trapped he couldn't spread them any wider, and he made a small noise of frustration before allowing himself to relax into pliancy, held up by the table and their persistent mouths.

"Come anytime you like, love," said Fred, nibbling teasingly at Harry's entrance. 

George pulled away long enough to say, "We're in a hurry, after all," before taking Harry's length into his mouth and sucking hard.

It didn't take much, not at Harry's age and with the two of them working their wicked wiles on him, each mouth as knowing as the other as they plundered his body. He had no secrets left from them and they played him like an instrument, Fred's hands holding him so very open and George's finding and pinching his nipples just as hard as he wanted until the pain and pleasure overwhelmed him and he came with a whimpered little cry.

"That," he said, panting as they pulled away and began to restore him to order, "was way better than a cuppa."

They arrived at the Defence room very nearly on time, though Harry's shirt was buttoned askew and his hair was more mussed than usual. Snape turned to them and smirked with something like his old cruelty, though there was a spark underneath that Harry thought might be affection, or possibly the same jealousy that dogged his own days with Snape. "I believe there is time for you to properly dress yourself, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry, echoed in a singsong by the twins. He unbuttoned his shirt, eyes flickering to Snape just in time to see the flash of possessive lust on the man's face. He couldn't hold in a smile as he redid the buttons correctly this time, thinking that that expression would warm his memories, and his lonely bed, for many nights to come.

"Now," said Snape, straightening the cuffs of his own immaculate duelling robes, "I will perform only defensive spells while Messrs. Weasley attack me. I want you to sit there," he pointed imperiously with his wand at the rickety-looking chair off to one side, "with your own shields tightly up, and take notes of every spell that is cast. Any spells you don't know, you will learn. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they all chorused, and Harry sat gratefully; his knees still hadn't quite re-solidified from the mind-blowing orgasm he'd had. He pulled out his notebook, quill and ink and set the ink bottle to floating at his side. "Should I use a specific shield spell, sir?" Harry asked, though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

"Use whatever will make you feel properly safe from miscast curses, of course," said Snape, his voice dripping with his usual classroom disdain.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, Professor," he said, trapping his quill in his notebook and pulling his wand. Knowing he'd be mostly concentrating on writing everything down, he cast spells that wouldn't require concentration, including a mirror shield he was hoping wouldn't interfere too much with their combat. He opened his Defence journal and made a note of the date and exercise, then looked up at where the three of them had set themselves out in front of him. "I'm ready, sir."

"Excellent," said Snape. They all bowed, and the lesson began.

* * *

Defence had been brilliant but exhausting, and Harry had felt drained and elated when they'd gone down to the kitchen for another Potions lesson. That had been fun in its own way because Snape and the twins spent the whole time talking over his head about potions theory and how to make disagreeable ingredients taste good when merged with sweets. Harry even managed to ask a few reasonably intelligent questions and brew his potion correctly, though of course Snape criticized the texture, colour and his general ability to do anything right, ever.

For once, Harry couldn't take it personally.

After lunch, Snape and the twins took off with Harry's vault keys and a promise from Fred to bring him back something sweet. George promised to return with something spicy to counter it, and Harry promised to eagerly await them both. Then he spent the afternoon preparing for the evening, Defence notes set aside in favour of his Etiquette notebook. Snape had introduced him to over a dozen different subtle systems of flirtation this week, from cocktails to Potions ingredients, and Harry knew they'd spring them all on him, expecting him to be able to understand and respond in kind.

He eventually took the book into the bathroom, casting an Impervious charm on the Pages to keep them from getting wet, and when everyone got home he was there still. 

"I found him!" Fred yelled down the hall before shutting the bathroom door behind him and giving Harry a distinct leer.

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to save that for after dinner," said Harry with a little smile, setting the book aside and stretching in the water. The bubbles were still about half there, but he knew little patches of his body would show through the places where they'd all dissolved, and for once he found the prospect exciting instead of embarrassing.

Fred looked on admiringly, but nodded. "I'll have to. You've only got about half an hour to get ready and come down," he said, pulling an absurdly forlorn expression with that little sparkle of mischief that always seemed to lurk in his eyes.

The door opened behind him to admit George, that same little twinkle of wickedness mirrored in his appreciative gaze. "Molesting our little poppet without me?" he asked Fred, slinging an arm around his twin's waist with that natural casualness that Harry suspected they'd spent months perfecting just so they could touch each other in front of people and no one would ever know how much they enjoyed it.

"I'm not a poppet," said Harry, pulling the plug with his toes and standing rather than bothering to repeat his little show from earlier. "Don't you have to be a girl for that?"

Their eyes followed the water sluicing down off Harry's body, and he couldn't help but grin in a very satisfied manner at that. He stepped out of the tub, reached for a towel and began drying off as sensually as possible, running the rough cloth up one leg and down the other, bending over to give them a lovely view of his arse and the way his balls hung low and warm between his thighs.

"Definitely not a girl," said Fred, his voice holding a distracted tone that warmed Harry that much more.

Harry looked back over his shoulder and saw George's Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "You, um. Snape said, you..."

"Formal wear!" said Fred triumphantly, as if he'd just remembered the rest of their message.

"Right!" George said, eyes riveted on Harry's body. "Formal robes for dinner."

Harry nodded and began to dry his front, running the towel over his chest and stomach and finally grasping his cock and balls in a fold of it. "If you must dress at all," said Fred, letting out a little moan as Harry stroked himself just a little with the towel.

Harry felt sexy and wanton, like he was riding just the edge of that abyss and just barely keeping above water, which he thought was a good feeling to have just before going to play at being seduced. "I'd hate to put Severus to the blush," said Harry with a wink, drying his hair as fast as he could while trying to keep an eye on the twins.

"You'd love the punishment," said Fred, his hand moving across his body to twine with George's at his hip.

George gave Fred a little nuzzle that was the exact opposite of casual, and said, "We'd love administering it."

Harry tossed the towel aside and straightened his glasses, then snagged book and wand and walked right up to the two despite his nudity. "Going to help me dress?" he said with a flirty little wink, waiting for them to decide what they were going to do and get out of his way.

They exchanged a glance and looked Harry up and down, from his wrinkled toes to his messy, damp hair, and back to linger on his peaked nipples and hard prick. "As much as we'd love to," said Fred, his hand wandering up Harry's side to find and pinch one of his pink nipples to pleasantly painful redness.

"We've got to get dressed, too," said George, curling his fingers up around Harry's balls and giving them a gentle tug.

"Best get out of my way, then," said Harry, his voice gone embarrassingly breathless as he held onto the last tenuous threads of control that were keeping him from throwing himself on the twins and begging for a good seeing-to.

They parted silently, and Harry slipped out into the hall; he figured the odds of Snape catching him naked in 10 feet of hallway were slim enough it was worth the risk of getting in trouble for being a tease. He made it into his room with the sound of footsteps on the stairs chasing the door shut, and collapsed into giggles against it. When he composed himself enough to start looking around, he noticed that his dress robes had been neatly laid out along with all the appropriate underthings, and it was a matter of moments to slip into his clothes and try to do something about his hair.

He was still mucking about with his comb while the wardrobe mirror teased him relentlessly when a knock came at his door. "I'm ready, you can come in," he said, expecting the twins to accost him and undo what little progress he'd made.

Instead a smooth, sensual voice followed the creaking of the door. "I've brought your tokens, Harry, so you may choose one to wear for this evening's exercise," he said.

Harry turned and lost his train of thought completely for a moment as his eyes travelled up Snape's body, from the soft suede boots in a charcoal grey, over the silver embroidery glinting at the hem of Snape's slightly lighter grey robes. They continued upwards, over the body-hugging expanse of velvet that culminated in a subtly embroidered collar with a throat pin shaped, not like a snake as Harry had half-expected, but in a simple silver leaf design enamelled in green. His hair was pulled back in a green velvet ribbon, exposing the clean lines of his cheekbones and the wicked glint of his black eyes, and Harry had to shake himself mentally to keep from drooling. "I... you... what?" he said intelligently, trying to resist the urge to smack himself in the forehead.

"I'll take that as a compliment, though perhaps you ought to consider something a bit more... verbal, next time," said Snape, one eyebrow on the rise and a smirk settling on his mouth like a blackbird on its home perch. He set the items he'd been juggling on the bed, five small velvet boxes which obviously contained jewellery from Harry's vaults. "You should choose a token that appeals to you, and we can resize it to fit if it's too small or large," he said, opening each box in turn.

The first small box was a signet ring much like the one Snape had, though on a larger scale, obviously meant to be worn on the index or middle finger of a big man. It was the Black crest, and Harry just couldn't bring himself to touch it, let alone wear it. He shook his head, and Snape whisked the box away and opened the next.

A heavy bracelet of twined red and yellow gold lay there, an abstract design of wire that had been twisted and hammered flat. Harry touched that one, lifting it and caressing the surface, feeling the weight and shape of it. "Maybe," he said, settling it back into the case. "I like that one, regardless."

Snape nodded and opened the next, where a pair of simple ruby earrings set in gold pierced the velvet that nestled them. "You would, of course, only wear one," said Snape, tapping Harry's left ear meaningfully.

"But I'd have to pierce my ear every time I wanted to wear it, or wear it all the time," said Harry, though he intervened when Snape made to tuck the box away. He liked the glinting jewels, and he rather thought Hermione might like them as well, or perhaps the twins would wear one each for him.

Snape opened the next item without comment, though Harry could see he wanted to. This one was obviously also from the Black vaults, a cuff of twining snakes with twinkling emerald eyes. "Too Slytherin," said Harry, though he whispered a hullo to the snakes regardless.

Snape cleared his throat and Harry flushed, but listened when he said, "It could also be used to indicate your interest in the more... exotic sexual practices," he explained, and Harry nodded and left the box where it was.

The last one had obviously been tossed in just in case Harry didn't like any of the others, a gaudy lapel pin with a rampant Gryffindor lion in gold with huge ruby eyes, and some yellow gems scattered in the mane and tail. "This looks like something Aunt Petunia would wear," said Harry, snapping the lid shut himself and handing it off to Snape.

Snape smirked and tucked it away with the other, then nodded toward the remaining three. "Perhaps for tonight, as we are attempting to negotiate such activities, you ought to go with the snakes," he said, picking up the silver cuff and handing it to Harry. 

It came alive once it was slipped over Harry's bony wrist, resizing itself and closing the gap so it was now a continuous pattern of serpents. "Let's hope it comes off," he said jokingly, closing up the all three boxes and palming the earrings while he stashed the other two in his trunk. "How do I look?" he asked, running his hand through his hair nervously.

His dress shoes were shiny new and uncomfortable, and the silk robes were long enough to cover all but the black tips of them. The robes themselves were a deep, rich blue with just a touch of sparkle in their depths that had appealed to him in the store, and seemed to go well with the bright slash of silver on his left wrist. They were fitted above the waist, but flared out below for walking, and the tailoring was just masculine enough, with boxy shoulders and a rounded Chinese-style collar, that he didn't feel too much like he was wearing a dress.

Snape's eyes glowed with appreciation and he smiled. "I shall be the envy of all the young men on the day I am allowed to take you out in public on my arm," he said simply, a compliment that warmed Harry more for having just the right mix of sentiment and frustration. "Shall we?" he said, surprising Harry once more by holding out one elbow, obviously intending escort Harry downstairs in style.

"A-all right," Harry stammered, stepping up and tucking his hand into the crook of Snape's arm the way he'd seen girls do, and feeling a bit foolish doing it. "Won't this be seen as showing you some favour early on or something?" he said, trying to tease and hoping it hadn't fallen too flat.

"I'm sure it's properly balanced by your naked strutting in front of the twins," Snape replied dryly, bringing the flush right back to Harry's cheeks.

"Saw that, did you?" he said as lightly as he could manage.

Snape chuckled as they reached the bottom of the stairs and said, "Just the tail end, as it were."

He was led into the parlour, where Dobby was cheerfully occupying the bar that had been set up, and a table for four was set for a rather fine dinner, with white linens and a dazzling array of the family silver and china. Fred and George were over by the fire, wearing their own matching dress robes of rust-red crushed velvet that gave the impression of having been slept on by a family pet despite, or perhaps because of, the natural texture of the fabric. "Mr. Potter, so good to see you again," said Fred smoothly, he and George gliding over as one.

"Messrs. Weasley," said Harry, stepping away from Snape just a touch, though it pained him to do so. "You know Pr- Mr. Snape, I presume?" The move revealed his bracelet, and all eyes snapped to the token, the only real decoration his costume afforded.

"We've met," said George, eyes twinkling as he held his hand out to Snape to be shaken. Harry noted that George had a simple gold band around his right pinkie, and a glance revealed its mate on Fred's left. Interesting, that they'd chosen to divide themselves that way, and Harry decided now was as good a time as any to comment.

"It's interesting, you wear your rings on the opposite hands," said Harry, subtle as a freight train but, he felt, not too bad for an opening gambit despite Snape's smirk.

"Rock, parchment, shears," said Fred, holding his bare right hand out for Snape to shake. Snape's own signet was, of course, decorating his own smallest finger on that hand, and Harry got a little roil of envy that he'd already been allowed to play top to Fred's bottom, and possibly even bottom to George's top.

Harry chuckled, but Snape gave a disapproving frown and said, "We agreed that you are to be separate entities for the purposes of this exercise, and that one of you would be a bottom so Harry had a sense of how to negotiate with someone he wanted, but possessed the same preferences as his own."

"Yeah, but he was dying to know," said George, giving Snape a gentle shove. "Look, how about we start over by buying Harry a drink before dinner?"

Snape nodded, mollified, though Harry had a sneaking suspicion he'd wanted to know just as badly as Harry had. At least this one question, Harry had an answer for, and he walked up to Dobby with a confident stride. "I'll take a virgin Bloody Mary, extra spicy," said Harry, a bold statement for someone with so little experience, but indicating his interest in heavy kink, as the book phrased it, as well as his own sexual status.

"I'll get that," said Snape, as Harry reached for his purse to 'pay' Dobby for his drink. Snape slid a Sickle across to the elf, who smiled and winked and dropped it into a glass that had obviously been set aside for just this purpose.

Harry smiled as coyly as he could manage and said, "Why, thank you. And what will you be having?"

Snape smirked and ordered a Vodka Gimlet with a twist of lime, just the name sending a shiver down Harry's spine. Harry was surprised to see sugar go into it, a sign that the person was looking for an emotional attachment rather than a single night, the twist yet another way to indicate an interest in the more exotic sexual practices. Another Sickle made its way from Snape's purse into Dobby's hands -- Snape had assured Harry that it was generally considered a faux pas for someone who'd just been bought a drink to then pay for the would-be paramour's refreshment.

"An interesting choice," said Fred, sidling up to the bar. "I'll have an Eye Opening Bloody Mary," he said to Dobby, smirking a little at Harry. Fortunately, the book had mentioned several variations on the common cocktails, including this one, and Harry knew it was a spicier version, and indicated a willingness for the drinker to go outside his preferences if the experience was worth it.

Harry felt his cheeks flushing as he wondered if they'd found him worth a bit of experimentation so far, and he was spared from having to think up a reply by George, who leaned right up next to him and winked. "I'll have a Dirty Martini," he said to Dobby, who was just finishing up Fred's drink.

"Dobby will be fixing it in one moment, George Weasley, sir," said the elf, stirring in an eye-watering amount of hot sauce before trading Fred his glass for another silver Sickle. He then deftly assembled George's drink, got his tip, and vanished as the men took their glasses to the table that had been set for them.

The cocktail thing was sort of an opening gambit, a way to see if there was any reason to go through the effort of a conversation; accordingly, all four men had indicated and interest in some degree of what Harry still privately thought of as 'naughty' sex, and by their manner they'd all shown an interest in Harry specifically. Usually, the next move was up to the one being courted, but Harry only knew the chess thing really well, and he couldn't very well set up a game between all four of them. Instead, he took refuge in the neat little menus provided by the house elves. "It, um, looks like there's quite a variety of dishes available," he said, surprised to see such gourmet fare from the Hogwarts elves.

"I've heard the cream sauce is excellent," said Snape, drolly enough to make Harry have to hide a snicker.

"I do enjoy a good cream sauce on nearly any dish," said Harry, eyes flicking over the menu. "I was rather hoping for something more substantial than pasta, however. I wonder if the cut of steak is properly tender?"

"A tender steak is a rare treat," said George, taking a sip of his drink. "So hard to find these days."

"And yet, always so satisfying, when you do find a good piece of meat to fill you up, wouldn't you say, Harry?" Fred chimed in, putting Harry to the blush.

"I wouldn't know," said Harry after a long moment of expectant silence, and he sipped his drink rather pointedly. "Perhaps I ought to try it. How would you recommend I take it, Severus?"

Fred had to hide a laugh behind his menu, and it was everything Harry could do to keep a straight face with his wide, innocent eyes turned to Snape. George was looking intently at him as well, though of course Snape managed to keep his composure as he said dryly, "Rare, with the cracked peppercorns rather than the sweet bourbon sauce."

"I take it you're not much for sweets?" Harry asked, feeling a strange little flutter in his stomach at the thought of it.

Snape closed his menu and looked Harry in the eye, disconcertingly direct as he said, "Sweetness has its place, but I prefer it in small doses rather than covering my entire meal in a cloying sauce of it."

Harry nodded; that message was pretty clear and, he thought, very much in line with what he knew of Snape. "Then you'll have to join me for pudding, once I've tried the steak." Harry followed this up by ordering the steak just as Snape had recommended with chips, and broccoli as well. The little folder disappeared from his hands with a little pop, and Harry blinked, startled.

Snape opened his menu and spoke his order aloud, getting curry of all things, which Harry wasn't even sure he'd seen in his list; Fred ordered his own steak with a spice rub, and George the pasta with cream sauce. Once all the menus were gone, Snape laid his napkin over his lap and said, "I'd love to join you for any sort of after-dinner sweet that suits you."

Harry tried really hard not to feel dirty about that, and failed completely as images sprang into his head of himself covered in those fruity sauces from Bartholomew & Artemis' restaurant and Snape licking them off, remarking all the while about the piquant flavour and the quality of the tableware. "P-perhaps you could tell me a bit about yourselves?" Harry asked, slightly desperate for someone else to pick a topic.

The food appeared, and Fred picked up the thread of conversation, talking about flowers while they ate, drawing them all into the complicated language that had been used for centuries by men and women alike to send messages. That led them to Potions ingredients, and Harry started to feel hopelessly lost, concentrating more on his food than the talk swirling around above his head. It was George who noticed Harry had stopped contributing and changed the subject to Quidditch which, being a sport with 14 broomsticks and 4 balls that involved putting things through hoops on sticks, was a very easy subject to turn to less than pure purposes.

In the end, Harry had no idea how he was supposed to choose between them and, after a couple of glasses of the excellent wine that Snape had ordered for the four of them, said so.

"Which one of us do you want to take you upstairs?" Snape asked, his eyes smoky and full of promises that the ache in Harry's chest reminded him that neither of them could fulfil tonight.

Harry thought about the conversation they'd had, the side each of them had shown him and the hints he'd caught -- not to mention the ones they'd all dropped that he hadn't figured out -- and shook his head. "You're all wonderful," he said, cheeks growing pink as he remembered one of the codes that he'd read. "This evening has made me want a... a bouquet, with harebell, gladiolus and snapdragons, to lay on a bed of grass and dog rose petals," he said, having chosen a few of those flowers earlier, though he'd intended himself for the harebell meaning submission, and coral roses of desire for the Weasley twins -- though of course he knew they really did deserve different symbols, he'd been quite tired and given up at finding the one.

Snape looked impressed, and Fred and George looked lascivious and suspiciously thoughtful at once, exchanging those glances that always made Harry wonder just what they were communicating. "We'd offer to arrange that," said Fred, looking from Harry to Snape.

"But it would only get us all in trouble," said George, shaking his head regretfully.

Harry realized what they were proposing and thought he might burst right out of his pants for a moment, swallowing down some cool water as though the ice might slide all the way down to where he needed it most. "Ah, perhaps once there's a proper opportunity," he said, looking intently at Snape's face for any reaction, "we could reconsider the matter?"

Snape looked pensive, but then he nodded once and set his napkin on his plate. "I shall trust that after many cups of chamomile tea," he said, and Harry's memory supplied a whisper of _patience_ among the meanings, "you will bring me tulips and not yarrow, and I'll have no cause to refuse such a proposal."

Harry blinked and nodded, filing the statement away to look up later, though he was pretty sure he knew what Snape meant. "I'll sip chamomile as well," said Harry, unconsciously copying Snape's formal speech, "and hope that you won't trade my tulips for love-lies-bleeding."

George laid his hand over Harry's and smiled softly. "We'll send you pansies all year long," he said softly, his eyes warm and serious.

"And hope not to get lotus blossoms back," said Fred, a wistful smile on his face when Harry turned to him, the same look he sometimes carried when he thought Harry wasn't looking. It was a smile that said he knew their time with Harry was limited, and sometimes he even minded.

"Never lotus," said Harry, the strange code coming back to him as they kept using it, like a foreign language he'd read about but never actually tried to speak until just now. "Pansies and zinnia for both of you," he said, looking from one to the other, acutely aware that the game had ended and they were speaking of much deeper things now.

"I believe," said Snape, reaching out and giving Harry's cheek one light, tantalizing caress, "that it is time for me to go have some of that chamomile, while you three negotiate the rest of your evening." He stood up and came around the table to stand next to Harry, putting a hand on one shoulder that seemed hot and cold all at once. "You did well, Harry. Though I hope you never have to use this knowledge, I truly feel you'd be able to, should it become your only recourse."

Harry nodded, covering Snape's hand with his own. "I hope not to have to use it, either, but I'm grateful that you care enough to teach me so thoroughly, and to allow others to teach where you can't," he said softly, speaking their own sort of code.

Snape gave him a wordless squeeze on one shoulder and a look that spoke volumes, and then left. Harry took a moment to catch his breath, watching Snape's rather fine arse on the way out as a bonus, and then turned back to the Weasley twins with an impish grin. "Well, it seems that this lesson is over. Is it time for the next?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harebell is for submission, gladiolus and snapdragons for strength, grass for submission and homosexual love, the dog rose is for pleasure & pain and coral rose for desire. Chamomile is patience, as well as energy in adversity; tulips are a declaration of love, and yarrow is the cure for heartache. Love-lies-bleeding is pretty self-explanatory; pansies are for thoughts and love, lotus is for estranged love and forgetfulness, zinnia are for thoughts of an absent friend.


	15. Keeping Above Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns a little something about staying afloat.

It seemed like a matter of seconds before Harry found himself whisked upstairs to the twins' room and divested of his formalwear, though the heavy bracelet remained stubbornly around his left wrist despite their best efforts. The twins, too, shucked off their robes and hung them in their wardrobe; Harry was bemused when they left their rings on, getting a wink from Fred when he was spotted staring at them.

"We've got a special lesson tonight," said George, pulling out the soft rope that Harry was quickly becoming very fond of.

Fred lounged on the bed looking edible and said, "A couple of lessons, in fact. Snape suggested them."

"He's been ever so helpful in working out your practicum," said George, leading Harry to the end of the bed.

At some point they'd borrowed or conjured a brass footboard for the bed, in a swirling pattern of intertwined rails that Harry couldn't wait to be tied to. He allowed himself to be manhandled up onto the bed on his knees, back to the rails and legs spread as wide as they'd go and feet poking back through. His arms were brought up and draped over the shoulder-high top rail, and he felt his breath quicken; his prick had gotten hard when Snape walked into his room in those smoky grey robes, and hadn't really changed its mind since, though it made a valiant effort to get even harder now. He felt the haze of desire rising through him, clouding his thoughts and opening his thighs just that touch wider as his whole body relaxed.

"You're going to have to keep alert tonight, Harry," said George a bit sharply, snapping Harry out of it.

Harry blushed and nodded, trying to control his breathing. Fred began trailing his hands over his own body with a look that was half intent and half mischievous. "Tell me what to do to myself, Harry," he said, even as George began winding the ropes meticulously through the bed rails and around Harry in an elaborate pattern that cocooned his limbs and torso in a growing web of white. "If you stop talking, I stop doing."

"That's the first lesson," whispered George in his ear, and Harry moaned.

"I... you... pinch your nipples," said Harry, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

Fred slid his hands sensually up his chest, then closed thumb and forefinger around each nipple and squeezed, biting his lip as he did so. "Tell me how hard," he said breathlessly, hips giving a little involuntary rock that set his prick bobbing, smearing precome over his flat belly.

"Harder," said Harry, licking his lips. It was strange trying to both give orders to Fred and obey George's whispers, to keep his mind on Fred and Fred's pleasure while George's hands roamed over Harry's own body, wrapping him up in the soft ropes that slithered over his skin like a dozen strange caresses. "As hard as you can stand, and still like it," he added, nearly whimpering when his bonds began to tighten, holding him firmly up against the tall footboard.

Fred moaned as his fingers tightened, eyes locked onto Harry's and dark with need. "Twist them," said Harry, shivering in his bonds. His desire was different tonight, now that he was being forced to stay alert instead of just riding his need; it was as if he was trying to keep his head above the seductive waters of his own submissive inner whirlpool, which tried to pull him down into the peaceful waters beneath at every turn. Harry floated in his bonds as his weight was slowly transferred from his arms to his entire body, until he felt weightless.

George's hands came through the bars and mirrored Fred's for a moment, giving Harry's nipples a rough twist that drew a gasp from Harry's lips. Harry felt his head starting to slip below that surface again where the world became monochrome, simple and safe, warmed and coloured by his own rising desire. "Keep talking," said George in his ear, hands smoothing the rope patterns on Harry's chest and stomach before withdrawing.

Harry swallowed and bit his lip, trying to force himself to think. "P-put two fingers in your mouth, from your left hand," said Harry, too distracted to keep any kind of continuity now that Fred's hands had fallen to his sides during Harry's moment of inattention. "Use the other hand to pull your balls up, so I can see," he said, his voice rough with lust and embarrassment.

"Yes, sir," said Fred, a twinkle of humour showing in the depths of his lust-dark eyes. He slid the first two fingers of his left hand into his mouth, then brought up his knees and spread his legs wide. His right hand slid down his body in slow motion, teasing over one thigh before cradling his balls and tugging them up so the dark cleft was visible. Harry couldn't quite see his entrance yet, only the ginger hairs that dusted around it, but he knew Fred would comply.

As long as Harry kept talking, anyway. As long as he could keep treading water, instead of drowning.

"Bring your knees up, I can't quite see it," said Harry, just the thought of it sending a shiver through him that set his cock to bouncing in the cool air. "I want to see your h-hole and how much you want it filled," he said. Harry blushed, mortified to be talking so crudely even to the twins after their evening of polite innuendo. At least his discomfiture helped to keep him lucid despite the increasingly restrictive bondage and of course the sight of Fred drawing his knees nearly up to his chest so his pink entrance peeked out from the shadows of his crevice.

"Would you like to see me fuck him, Harry?" George asked, tying the last knot and coming around to sit on the edge of the bed.

Harry nodded, a little whimper escaping his throat. "F-first I want to see him fuck himself on his fingers," Harry said, whimpering again when Fred's spit-slick hand began the slow path down to his arse. "Then..."

George held up a hand to interrupt him. "One thing at a time, Harry, you have a lot of talking to do after all," he said, his expression utterly wicked.

Harry's attention drained away from the perceived unfairness, flowing to where Fred's fingers were teasing at his entrance, that glint of gold on his smallest finger reminding Harry that he'd it was only chance and luck that made him the bottom tonight, and not George. Harry swallowed, his mouth going dry, then said, "Put one in." He found himself straining against his bonds, wanting to touch, taste, help, and moaned with frustrated desire when he could do nothing of the sort.

Fred nodded and slipped a fingertip inside, and Harry gasped; it seemed terribly intimate, to watch Fred's finger sliding inside his body, disappearing into the hungry little opening. "Kiss him, George," Harry said, though he wasn't sure that his authority extended to both twins.

George nodded, then leaned in and captured Fred's mouth for a kiss. All three of them moaned for different reasons, for the same reason, as Fred's finger vanished inside him, as Harry trembled with the force of his helpless wanting, as George tasted deeply of his brother's lips.

Though he hated to interrupt them, Harry forced his mind up from his own neglected body and said, "George, get the lube."

"Your wish is our command," said George, snagging the phial from the nightstand.

"At least for now," said Fred, slowly pulling his finger out before pushing it back in deeper, making the taut flesh around it bow inward as it gave token resistance to the welcome invasion.

Harry stared in fascination as the finger came back out, the same opening that had tried to keep it out now trying to keep it inside, the puckered flesh grasping at the slick digit in a way that made Harry think of Fred's mouth sucking greedily on his own cock, of what it felt like to have George's finger buried in his own arse. He whimpered, then forced his eyes up to where George was poised with the lubricating potion, awaiting Harry's next order. "Get your fingers slick," said Harry, wriggling in his bonds, "and then put a finger into your brother. Fred, keep fingering yourself too, I want to see both."

Fred moaned and complied, finger going in and out just a little faster while George oiled his own hand, then slowing to a stop as George's finger sunk in next to it, stretching Fred's hole in new and delightfully obscene ways. "Kiss him," said Harry, and the two obliged, snogging intently while their fingers worked in tandem, in and out of Fred's body, tangling close and then pulling apart so it seemed that Harry could almost see into Fred, a tantalizing glimpse of pink before their fingers shifted and the gap between them closed.

The fingers slowed and Harry's eyes travelled up their bodies to find them both looking at him with identical smug, wicked expressions. "What now, Harry?" asked Fred, kneading his balls just a little.

"Don't stop," said George, nibbling at Fred's ear, "or we will, too."

Harry moaned and gathered his wits. "Two fingers each," he said, hoping Fred could handle the extra but wanting to see it -- if all he could do was watch, he'd indulge his imagination, and he didn't think the view would be nearly so good once they were fucking.

They went back to kissing without being told, each twin adding a finger to Fred's little hole so it wasn't so little anymore, stretched wide around four thick digits and then pulled even wider for another of those teasing glimpses inside. "God, it makes me want to fuck him myself," said Harry without thinking, his mind full of the idea of it, sliding his cock into Fred's tight arse and feeling that silken slickness all around, hot and tight.

"We wish you could," said George, the teasing note gone and a different sort of light in his eyes.

"We'd keep you for yourselves," said Fred, shuddering as someone hit something nice inside in their haphazard finger fucking.

George nuzzled and kissed Fred, and then said, "But your heart's already taken."

"S-sorry," said Harry, feeling that submissive desire swamping the edges of his consciousness, and washing away anything but the idea of being kept, being wanted, being someone's.

Fred chuckled at that and shook his head. "You're not really," he said, fingers working in and out of himself as though they weren't discussing their other lover.

"And you shouldn't be, either," said George, his own fingers sliding slickly, getting Fred's body ready for what they all knew was next.

Fred arched up, obviously ready to get on with things as all four of their fingers worked him wide open. "Love can't help being what it is," he said, not looking at Harry this time but into George's face.

Harry saw the expressions pass over their faces, the communication that they never needed words for, and knew what his next order had to be. "Make love to each other," said Harry, feeling as though this was something he needed to see to understand properly, a necessary voyeurism that might be the key to his own heart.

They moaned in unison and kissed passionately, then George slicked his cock, no longer bothering to keep up the tease now that the tone of the lesson had changed. "Gladly," he said, kissing Fred again and positioning himself between Fred's legs. Fred pulled his knees up to his chest, angling his hips upward so Harry could just barely see what was going on; though George's bollocks blocked most of the view, Harry could still tell when George sank into Fred's body. The moans would've told him anyway, but he was perversely grateful to be able to watch the head of George's prick push through the puckered opening before everything was hidden and the next thing he knew George's balls were resting against Fred's arse and Harry was once again straining forward in his bonds.

This time, though, it wasn't so much pure lust as envy he felt, watching them so obviously in love, so right for one another in a way Harry could only hope to someday be for Severus, or with someone else if that proved a foolish boy's dream. "Please, move," he begged, wanting more, needing to see everything he couldn't yet have.

George did one better; he rolled them over and sat up so Fred was in his lap and Harry could see now where they were joined, could see the flex of muscles as Fred began to ride George's thick cock, could see the gleam of emotion in George's eyes just before they closed for another kiss. Harry was falling forward into the ropes, as though gravity had shifted sideways and they were all that was holding him back from being drawn into the twins' love. He was losing himself in a different way, now, not succumbing to the peaceful undertow of his own submission, but burning up with the fierce desire to be a part of something like what they had now, that slow give and take of true lovemaking that owed nothing to anyone or anything outside of the two doing it, right there before his eyes.

Fred was still just riding slowly up and down George's cock, torturous and languid at once, and Harry managed to gasp out a strangled, "Faster."

They turned and grinned at him as though they'd forgotten he was there at all for a moment, and then began to move faster, George's hips helping as well, the two of them moving in the sort of tandem that only twins could manage, at least to Harry's mind. Harry found himself breathing in time with their thrusts, panting and moaning, and he wondered if he'd get punished if he came just from watching them, because he was nearly there already, his own hips moving, rubbing his skin against the soft ropes just to get some friction somewhere on his body, even if it wasn't where he wanted it most.

The room filled up with sighs stacked upon sighs, moans curling through the dense air and little whimpers dancing through it, and the low slap of flesh and slide of skin on skin beneath the rest like rhythm, or a heartbeat. Harry's eyes wandered up and down, connecting freckles in his mind and always snapping back to the weight of George's balls and the pink wetness of his cock slipping in and out of Fred's hungry arse, thick and hard and perfect enough to make Harry's mouth water.

Everything started to speed up more, growing erratic and rushed, and Harry suddenly knew just what he needed to say. George's balls drew up and Fred's head arched back and Harry let the order slip from his mouth, pulling the inevitability back into their game and grounding them all together. "Come."

And then they were all three doing it, Fred and George like they were two halves of the same creature and Harry gasping like a fish out of water as he spilled and spilled over the rumpled sheets, his cock untouched and his whole being straining still for something he couldn't have, for someone who wasn't even in the room.

The moment held for a dozen heartbeats and more, and then Fred was chuckling and George's eyes were open and fixed on Harry's come-spattered form. "Someone was naughty," said George, though his expression was fairly impressed.

"I guess he earned his spanking after all," said Fred, turning and gathering the drop of fluid off the tip of Harry's prick and licking it away with a smirk.

Harry laughed and flushed, relaxing in his bonds as things returned to normal, friends showing a friend what to do and Harry the sweet student at his lustful, mischievous tutors' mercy. "I guess so," he said, and then shyly, before the atmosphere could dissipate completely, "You two are beautiful together."

Fred blushed and George grinned, and Harry ducked his head. "Thank you, Harry," said Fred, curling a bit more into George's embrace as though reluctant to leave it, now that their lovemaking was done.

"You'll be his, one of these days," said George, understanding the unspoken longing in a way that made Harry wonder if George was always this understanding, or if Harry was just that transparent.

Not that it mattered anyway, it wasn't like he had anything to hide from them, especially not now that they'd trusted him with this, seeing them together with no artifice or hiding, just them as they were born to be. "Someday," said Harry coyly, giving a little wriggle in his bonds. "Now, someone said something about a spanking?"


	16. On This Natal Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two very different birthday celebrations.

Time flew and before Harry knew it, his birthday was upon them. Instead of being alone and miserable at midnight waiting for owled packages and forlorn letters, Harry got put to bed early, with a single chaste kiss from Severus. He was looking forward to tomorrow's promised celebration, a real birthday party for both him and Neville; he didn't even mind sharing, he was so happy to have anything to share. He'd managed to buy a present for Neville, even restricted to the house as he was, by bribing the twins with blowjobs and Snape's threats that they not bring anything back that would explode, spit noxious substances, or otherwise prove unpleasant.

Harry awoke what felt like seconds after his head hit the pillow, and he imagined he could still feel that elusive touch of Snape's lips on his, a liberty that meant more to Harry than all the gifts in the world. Sun was streaming in through the windows since one of the industrious house elves had pulled up the shades and laid out their choice of clothing for him, his most formal robes. Harry shook his head and got up, carefully putting the robes away and pulling out the jeans that best flattered his arse, and his "Co-Ed Naked Quidditch" t-shirt. Regardless of any unfortunate catering choices the elves might be making even now, this party was just a gathering of friends, and Harry wanted to avoid as much formality as possible.

Fortunately no one had arrived quite this early, and the kitchen was deserted when Harry wandered down, though there was evidence that Snape had already broken his fast in the form of a single dirty teacup and a few crumbs on the saucer. Harry, too, kept himself to a simple meal of tea, toast and marmalade, knowing that there would be a great deal of food later and he'd want to have room to at least try it all.

The Floo sounded upstairs with a faint whoosh just as Harry was contemplating stealing a bit of bacon for Hedwig to go with his crusts, knowing she was missing out on her usual birthday treats, since everyone was coming here. Harry stuffed a handful of things he knew she liked into a napkin and headed upstairs, smiling hopefully. 

Harry tried not to be disappointed when Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall greeted him with smiles and wrapped bundles, which Dobby spirited away for later opening, taking Hedwig's treats upstairs as well.

"Are you looking forward to your party, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling merrily as though the event had been entirely his doing, rather than merely requiring his permission.

"Very much so, sir," said Harry, peering at the clock. "Everyone ought to begin arriving in time for lunch, and Se- Professor Snape's already had breakfast and gone into hiding."

McGonagall's gaze went sharp, and much to Harry's surprise she drew another bundle from her robes, this one wrapped in plain white cloth. "It appears it is past time we gave these to you, Harry," she said tartly, unfolding the cloth to reveal his forgotten glasses. "We have inspected them thoroughly for tampering, but they seem to be perfectly safe."

"Go ahead, try them on," said Dumbledore encouragingly, when Harry hesitated.

Harry couldn't explain why this was nearly as momentous as receiving his vault key in a way, that not only had he been allowed to choose and purchase brand new spectacles for himself, but they were being handed to him on his birthday. He reached out and picked them up, slipping his old ones off and into a pocket -- you never knew when a backup pair would be useful, though his last ones were long since smashed to shards. "Thank you, Professor," he said automatically, with the politeness drilled into him through his regular etiquette lessons.

He slipped them on his face, eyes closed, and tried not to flinch when they wriggled just a bit. He opened his eyes and felt another wriggle, and a moment of disorientation as the charmed lenses adjusted themselves to his current prescription, and suddenly the world was clear. A glance at the clock revealed that the face was, in fact, quite easy to read from this distance, and he had to swallow against a momentary tightness as he realized just how much he'd been missing.

"They are quite flattering, don't you think so, Minerva?" said Dumbledore, breaking the spell and drawing Harry away from the deprivations of his past to the demands of his present role as host and birthday boy.

"Much better than the old ones, though I see you're wise enough not to throw them away just yet," said McGonagall, and it seemed as though she might say more.

She was interrupted by the Floo activating behind them, the fireplace disgorging the familiar and slightly sooty forms of Fred and George, several enormous packages in hand and equally wicked grins on each of their faces. "Our Harry's all grown up now!" said George, setting his burdens on a nearby chair, from which they made their own way to the "gift" table and sorted themselves by recipient.

"A man at last!" said Fred with equal drama, his own bag held rather tightly to his chest, making Harry wonder just what they didn't want the Professors to see.

Harry was engulfed in a hug that hid several interesting gropes, and he couldn't help but laugh with joy at such an absurd welcome into official adulthood. "Yes, now I can do magic just like I could yesterday, sit for my Apparition license if I were allowed to leave the house, and continue to sit through summer school instead."

Whatever lewd reply they were going to come up with -- and Harry was sure it would have been embarrassing -- was forestalled when Snape cleared his throat from the doorway. "Perhaps we ought to get you two settled in so Harry can continue to greet his guests in peace?" he said dryly, eyes straying significantly to Fred's hand on Harry's arse.

"Yes, Professor," they replied in singsong unison, marching out after him to hide away whatever embarrassing treat they'd brought for Harry's birthday night.

People arrived in a steady stream after that, Neville next with eyes that lit up to see that the gifts on the table were equally divided between himself and Harry, once his own poorly-wrapped parcel joined the garish packages on Harry's side. Harry got compliments on his new glasses from nearly everyone, and hugs as well from Hermione, shy Neville, and all the varied Weasleys including Molly, though Arthur settled for a manly handshake and back slap, to Harry's great relief. Only Charlie and Percy were absent from that family, the former attending to a delicate hatching and the latter being, well, Percy, though Harry had insisted on sending him an invitation just like everyone else.

Tonks, Remus, Fleur, and a few other Order members showed up as well, plus Flitwick and Hagrid, making the house seem very crowded before people sorted themselves into the various rooms, with the Hogwarts staff in the library with most of the Order, and the younger group hanging out in the parlour next to the snacks. The sideboard cleared itself precisely at noon, and a buffet lunch appeared in its place, with every imaginable form of finger food. Everyone ate, mingled, and ate more until nearly two o'clock, when a chime sounded and a rather impressive cake appeared.

Harry blushed bright red when he saw it, a towering confection of white icing that looked suspiciously like a wedding cake to him, especially as it had a topper that said, "Happy Birthday" and then, along the bottom in shimmering rainbow icing, "Harry and Neville." The colours crawled over their names in a manner that was slightly nauseating, and Harry was glad when Neville snatched up the knife.

"Let's go ahead and cut this, shall we?" said Neville, a note to his voice saying the he, too, hadn't missed the resemblance.

Harry nodded, laughing when Neville chopped right through their names and began handing out cake, then worked his way up, discovering that each of the four layers was a different flavour. "I'll take chocolate with raspberry," said Harry, snagging one of the plates without the magical colour-change icing. "Can I save you a piece of something?"

Neville, still busily cutting slices though nearly everyone had got one already, blinked and laughed ruefully. "I'll just take the banana cream," he said, slapping the piece he'd just cut onto a small plate and grinning ruefully. 

He was just about to get a bite into his mouth when George said loudly, "Time for presents, then?"

"Birthday boys need birthday toys," Fred agreed, shuffling them off to the wingback chairs that had been situated on either side of the overloaded table.

Harry and Neville exchanged glances, then both ate a big bite of their cake rather defiantly, getting a laugh from the audience. Butterbeer appeared at both their elbows, and Harry took a swig while Neville got in another bite. "Cake _and_ presents," he said with a grin, setting his plate aside and letting Fred hand him the first gaily wrapped package.

This one was, confusingly, from Neville and Hagrid both, and as soon as Harry touched it, the charmed wrapping exploded in a shower of coloured sparks to reveal a spindly, delicate-seeming plant. "It's a Danger Daisy," said Neville, pointing to identifying features that Harry was sure he was supposed to have learned in Herbology.

"But wait," Harry said, watching a bead of dew form in the cup of one odd little white thorn. "Don't they have to have a Dewvole to tend them?" The odd little creatures lived in a cage formed by the daisy's roots, and drank the dew as it formed, before it could run down the stem and poison the plant with its own fluids.

"Thas' mah part," said Hagrid, beaming proudly, and true to form the tiny creature scampered up the stem and slurped up the gleaming droplet just as it was about to fall. It wiggled its nose in Harry's direction, then dove back into the dirt as if it were water, waiting for another drop to form. The Dewvole would fertilize the Danger Daisy, leaving the precious blossoms free to be harvested for a number of protective and curative potions.

"Professor Sprout let me raise a few cuttings from the school's plant when Hagrid rescued a whole clutch of Dewvole kits from Fang, and they let me keep two," said Neville shyly, as though he didn't know how his gift was going over.

Harry grinned; he'd been so caught up in trying to remember the facts about the plant he'd forgotten why it was really precious to him, because two of his friends had given it to him. "It's perfect, Neville. You'll show me how to care for it?"

Neville nodded eagerly, and it made Harry wish he'd had the time and freedom to do something so personal. "It doesn't need much, since it's got a Dewvole," he said, beaming.

"An' th' vole don't need much but a few bits o' bread an' meat of a day, an' Horton'll eat a bit o' sugar out o' yer fingers." said Hagrid, grinning from ear to ear.

"Aren't their tongues poisonous?" Hermione asked, a bit sharply.

Hagrid shrugged. "Oh, aye, but it's no' big thing. Won' kill yeh or nothin'."

Harry laughed and shook his head, vowing not to try hand-feeding the creature without protective gloves. He set the plant aside, then looked at Neville expectantly. Neville had Harry's gift in his lap, some sort of hanging house plant wrapped in cellophane. He carefully removed the outer wrapping and plucked the labelled stake out of the dirt, grinning as he said, "It's a... a Lipstick plant."

"It's Muggle," said Fred with a wink to Harry.

"Got very interesting blossoms," said George, not even trying to look innocent.

Harry flushed. "I couldn't get out, so I asked the twins to pick something for you. D'you like it?"

"It's brilliant!" said Neville happily, hanging it in the air beside him with the charmed plant hook the twins had affixed to the green plastic pot. "I don't have a lot of Muggle plants, so this will be great." He leaned in and showed Harry the photo on the card, of a deep red trumpet-like blossom with a brighter red shape protruding from the centre, and Harry felt his cheeks heat as he realized what it looked like. "I'll hang it where Grandmother won't see, though," he said conspiratorially, obviously pleased to have got a naughty Muggle flower.

Harry grinned back, though he was nearly squirming with embarrassment. "I'm glad you like it," he said sincerely, reaching for the next gift to cover his discomfiture.

Neville read the care instructions on the back of the little card, oblivious to everything while he was learning about a brand new plant, so Harry let himself relax as he tore away the wrapping on the twins' gift. His cheeks flamed right back up again when the garish paper peeled back to reveal a giant drawing of a penis, with sparks shooting obscenely out of the end.

"It's our new line!" said Fred, while Harry tried in vain to cover the huge prick.

"You pull the balls and the prick shoots fireworks," said George, pointing to the writing on the box.

"Then the fireworks do naughty things as well," Fred added, looking utterly smug at Harry's mortification.

Neville looked at his own present from the twins, a nearly identical box, and laughed. "I suppose mine's the same?" he asked, reaching for it.

Fred and George shook their heads, identical grins on their faces. "Yours," said George, leaning in to point at the tiny fireworks animating obscenely around the sides of the box, "do different things."

And indeed they did -- upon closer inspection, Harry's box showed images of sparkling cocks plunging into flaming arses or mouths, or spurting off on their own; Neville's also had jiggling breasts and other things Harry chose not to look too closely at, presumably the sort of things that girls had that other boys wanted. Neville was red and giggling and obviously delighted, and he and Harry both hid the garish, naughty things under the table despite the twins' protests.

Things went a bit more smoothly after that, with Flitwick providing them both with identically charmed tea sets which would conjure a light tea for two at precisely four o'clock each day, so they'd never be without. Ron got them both the largest size of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, and a gender-appropriate issue of _Swish & Flick_ that also got shoved underneath the table, though not before Harry noticed that his had a Quidditch theme, whereas Neville's seemed to feature the great outdoors. Bill and Fleur gave a packet of Egyptian seeds to Neville, while Harry got a card promising a future tour of the Cursebreaking department at Gringott's.

Hermione gave them books, of course, _Air Ferns and Other Impossible Plants_ by Natalia Nequeo for Neville, and _Romancing the Cauldron: Potions Ingredients and Their Meanings_ by Phylydia Phial for Harry, which got her a grateful look. Ginny was next, with a subscription to _Quidditch Quarterly_ for Harry, and a starter flower box kit for Neville that was, she said, because everyone needs something that doesn't do anything useful. Harry didn't miss the glances she sent his way, and suddenly his desire not to let everyone know he was gay was being slightly squelched by his desire not to have Ginny's crush return in full force.

Although McGonagall gave them both quite serviceable journals charmed against spillage or dirt, Dumbledore's presents seemed extravagant, though of course Harry had no real idea how much things cost, when it came right down to it. Harry opened his first, the red velvet box revealing a gold pocket watch that told a number of things, none of which seemed to be the time. Neville's present, in a huge box wrapped in ivy-patterned paper, turned out to be a Pensieve much like Dumbledore's, though a bit smaller and with an abstract design of twined vines carved around the base.

"Though the gifts are perhaps more than I ought," said Dumbledore, as they both turned wondering faces to him, "Neither of you has someone in your life to bestow the sorts of things which are traditionally bestowed upon reaching one's majority. I hope you forgive the presumption."

"It's wonderful, Professor," said Neville, staring into the stone bowl, empty and dark with no memories to fill it yet. "Thank you."

"Yes," said Harry, cradling the watch in his hands and watching the mysterious dials move and turn, "I just know it'll come in handy."

Any other gifts might have seemed anticlimactic after that, but just then the Fanged Geranium Hagrid had found in the Forest for Neville managed to fight its way out of its rough paper wrapping, much to the amusement of the whole crowd. Neville soothed its ruffled petals and set it well away from the Danger Daisy for both their sakes, and the mood was broken. Kingsley's gifts of chocolate frogs were the perfect follow up, one going to the geranium, and one hopping into the daisy's pot and giving Horton a treat that Hagrid assured them all was harmless.

Moody gave them both Build Your Own Dark Detector kits, which amusingly began to rumble slightly once Mundungus' suspiciously familiar presents were unwrapped, and immediately handed over to the Auror for examination and possible disposal. Tonks had obviously been shopping with the twins, as her gift was a Skiving Snackbox apiece, along with a packet each of Cheering Creams and Crying Creams, the twins' latest confection.

That left only Snape's gifts, which Harry had saved for sentiment and, he thought, Neville likely out of sheer terror. They both had a large bottle which proved to be Wit-Sharpening Solution, and Harry couldn't help but laugh and shake his head.

"You could both certainly use the assistance in that area," said Snape, just a hint of warmth mitigating the cruelty of his tone.

"Yes, Professor," said Harry teasingly, keeping Neville from having to answer while he unwrapped his next gift.

The simple green paper proved to be hiding a signed copy of _Growing Plants for Potions: How Not to Cock It Up_ , which was actually a collection of journal articles co-written by Professor Sprout and Snape himself. Neville blushed and said, "Th-thank you, Professor, this will come in handy."

And then there was no more stalling, and Harry was opening the large green velvet box with the cheerful "From Professor Snape," tag undoubtedly added by the house elves. The lid was hinged and slanted, the front and top lifting away to reveal a beautiful sculpture. It took Harry a moment to realize that the nest of twining brass snakes was cradling several objects, a total of seven delicate crystal bottles. A card inside revealed the potion in each one, with a sarcastic note at the bottom that Harry ought not need the card, were he paying attention in his lessons. The list was half a dozen antidotes from the mundane to the extraordinarily rare, and an iridescent dose of Insight Infusion. 

Harry smiled up at him gratefully, figuring he'd need not only all of the antidotes at one point or another, but all the insights he could get. Snape laid a hand on his shoulder and met his gaze with a warmth that spoke more than any words, and Harry swallowed back the urge to steal a second, far more public birthday kiss.

The moment slipped away when the cake vanished, only to be replaced by yet more delicate snacks, the house elves obviously determined to feed every single person there until they were full to bursting. Everyone's attention wandered to food and genial conversation, and Harry was left sitting with Neville, chatting about their various acquisitions and their plans for the future, or lack thereof.

It was nearly tea time when the Floo sounded one more time, and everyone turned, faces reflecting everything from disbelief to outright hostility when Percy Weasley emerged from the fireplace, not a single hair out of place. Harry handed Ron his plate, though he wasn't at all sure he ought to be giving Ron more ammunition, and stepped forward to greet Percy formally. "Percy, this is a pleasant surprise," he said, his face open and smiling, though he couldn't hide the shock when a glint of gold drew his eyes to Percy's left hand and the discreet ring on his smallest finger.

Percy went just a bit pink and his posture stiffened a little more, only to relax again when Harry lifted his gaze to Percy's face full of warmth and understanding. Percy swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and then said, "I couldn't refuse the invitation to wish you and L- Neville well on your natal day." Two small packages were thrust at Harry, and he took them awkwardly.

"Thank you," said Harry, and on impulse leaned up and brushed a soft kiss over one pink cheek. "I'm glad you're here," he said, right hand going to his left wrist, though he'd finally coaxed the snakes back into their box.

Neville came forward to sort his gift from Harry's and turn a brilliant smile on Percy, warm from the simple fact that Percy hadn't forgotten him despite the many other things obviously on his mind. "Thank you so much, Percy, I've never had so many presents before!" he said delightedly, unwrapping it right then and there to reveal a small box of Honeydukes finest.

Harry took a moment to see that his was the same, though a slightly different assortment, and he felt warmed that Percy had gone to the trouble to get them both something nice and even remembered that Neville liked the weird flower creams while Harry preferred the sweet, sticky caramels. "Will you stay for tea?" Harry said invitingly, sharply aware that he was flirting just a little, but a part of him eager to use the lessons he'd learned and grateful to see that the gentle formality was putting Percy at ease.

"Yes, I'd like that," said Percy, brushing a speck of imaginary dust off his robes to avoid the shocked faces of everyone around them.

Harry nearly hugged Snape when he glided forward and said, "Weasley. I hear you spearheaded last year's referendum on cauldron bottoms."

That broke the ice, and he and Percy were soon deeply embroiled in a discussion of the necessary thickness of pewter versus gold, which Harry felt safe to leave them to, especially once Neville retreated to the rather depleted sideboard for a fortifying petit four. He went over to where Ron and Ginny were muttering darkly and said pleadingly, "If you love me at all you won't start anything today. He's trying, isn't that a start?"

All the air seemed to go out of Ron at that, though Ginny still looked a bit mutinous until Fred and George came over and bracketed Harry. "Was he wearing what we think he was wearing?" said Fred, slinging an arm around Harry's waist. In his right ear glittered the single ruby Harry had given him, with George's on the right today as well; they often switched ears to give Harry wicked hints about their later plans, and Harry felt today was no exception.

"Yes, and on his left hand, too," said Harry, getting curious looks from Ron and Ginny, though Hermione wandered up with understanding in her eyes.

"I guess Penelope was no go for more than one reason," said George, and the light began to dawn in Ron's eyes -- Harry had filled him in a bit on the etiquette thing in his letters, and Hermione had of course read a book or six about it on her break.

"Wait," said Ginny, glancing from one to another, "What're you all on about?"

It was Bill who laid it out straight for them, wandering up to the group with a slightly stunned expression on his face and saying, "So, Percy's gay, then."

"Explains a lot," said Fred, as though he wasn't of the exact same preference.

"He has always been prissy," said George with a smirk, arm making its way around Harry's shoulders as if by accident.

"It must have been hard to admit it to himself," said Hermione shrewdly, "Especially if he had a crush on someone unattainable, and no one to talk to about it."

Harry nodded, knowing exactly how that felt, though he didn't think Oliver or the twins counted as quite so inappropriate as, he suspected, the sort of people Percy might have found to long for. Suddenly a lot of things made sense, from Percy's tightly wound personality to his unwavering loyalty to certain points of view despite his family's opinions to the contrary. "Maybe he'll find he's still got friends today," he said softly, and that seemed to cool the last of Ginny's ire.

"Look, Mum's gone to talk to him," said Bill, giving Ron's hair a ruffle. "I'll go run interference, I think she always hoped he'd be the one to settle down respectably and have the next generation of redheaded hooligans for her to spoil rotten."

The group broke up, then, with the twins taking Ron and Ginny off to a corner to talk to their dad, and Harry making a beeline for Severus. "Did you know?" he asked quietly, and Snape shook his head.

"Kitchen," he said, leading Harry down to the brightly lit room, seemingly full of busy house elves, though there were in truth only the three. They ignored the humans once it became obvious they weren't here for anything but a bit of privacy, and Snape said quietly, "I didn't even suspect, to be honest. It is unusual for so many from one family, but not unheard of, and I believe the twins were influenced as much by their own affection for one another as any natural preference for one gender over the other. After all, I caught them snogging various girls in the supposedly secret niches of the castle nearly as often as I caught them snogging one another," said Snape thoughtfully, sharing a wry little smile with Harry at the last.

"Is it bad form, what I did?" Harry asked, knowing Snape's eyes had followed his every move, most especially the kiss.

Snape shook his head, smile fading to pensiveness. "No, if there's one thing Percy needs now, it's to feel he's accepted by his own kind. I would suggest an invitation to lunch in the near future; we can make him known to Bartholomew and Artemis, and extend an offer to join in our lessons, though I expect he learned everything he could before such a public display."

Harry relaxed, letting himself lean into Snape just a little as the excitements of the day weighed on him. "I'm glad you're not angry, and that we can help him. I can't say I liked him before, but... I guess this is how you feel, that we can't just leave him to muddle through when we could help?"

Snape's arms settled around Harry's shoulders and something like a kiss was brushed over his hair. "That is how I felt before you, yes," he said, leaving unspoken the many things that lay between them now, so much more than mere obligation.

Harry found himself smiling, and he gave Snape a surreptitious little squeeze before stepping away. "Back to playing host, I guess," he said, and was rewarded for his responsibility with a soft brush of Snape's fingers and an answering smile.

"A host's work is never done," Snape said ironically, then bowed and added, "After you."

Harry went upstairs, pleasantly conscious of the tight fit of his jeans and Snape's eyes on his body, still smiling when he emerged into the crowd. He was captured by a gaggle of Weasleys and questioned until he gave in and admitted that the rumour was true and he shared a preference with Percy, but wasn't going to put up with any matchmaking because he wanted to concentrate on his studies. He even managed to only blush a little when the twins snickered at that.

Eventually the sideboard was emptied and remained so, and people began to clear out in ones and twos, the evening still ahead. Neville kindly remained until the very end, when Snape had sequestered himself with Percy in the library, and the twins had gone upstairs to create more mischief. Harry was surprised when Dobby popped in and handed Neville a packet of letters, and one for Harry as well.

"What're these?" Harry asked, as they accepted the bundles. His own was strangely heavy, with his name on the top one in what he thought was Ron's handwriting.

Neville smiled, accustomed by now to Harry's spotty knowledge of wizarding ways. "They're your birthday cards," he said, opening his top one which was, in fact, from Ron. A single silver Sickle came tumbling out, and there was a surprisingly long note inside of the heavy card, the Gryffindor crest on the front. "All of your adult acquaintances will have sent one, even those that couldn't come to the party. There will be a piece of advice for the future, and a token coin or two, or sometimes more, to get you started out on your life as an adult."

"Why doesn't anyone tell me about this stuff?" said Harry, looking guilty. "I just gave Ron some new Quidditch gloves."

"Naah, you weren't supposed to send one to Ron, 'cos you were only sixteen. But you'll need to give one to Ginny when she gets older." Neville smirked and tugged a card out of Harry's bundle, putting it on top. "I turned yesterday, so you get one from me, though I'm not expected to have much wisdom yet."

Harry laughed and, on impulse, gave Neville a quick hug. "Thanks. I'm glad to have shared it with you."

Neville blushed and smiled back, tucking Ron's note back in the envelope and dropping the Sickle in after. "I'm glad you asked me," he said, "I wouldn't have had nearly so many people at a party just for me, no, don't protest." He held up a hand when Harry made to interrupt, then continued, "I'm not you, and that's fine, but sometimes I'm glad to get a bit of reflected glory, and presents."

They both glanced over at the gift table, identical grins sprouting as they once again took in their bounty. "Presents are good," said Harry. "Dobby'll make sure yours follow you home."

Neville chuckled and tucked the letters into his robe. "I know," he said cheerfully, then stepped up and grabbled some Floo powder. "See you September first."

"See you then," said Harry, and Neville left and the last of Harry's energy went with him. The party was well and truly over, though Harry knew that, thanks to the twins, his evening had barely begun. Harry took the letters over to the fire, where a cup of mulled cider steamed invitingly, and began to sort through them.

When he was done there were three piles: school friends like Ron and Neville, adult friends and acquaintances like Mrs. Weasley and Professor Lupin, and the largest of all, letters from people he didn't know well at all, who seemed to want to connect themselves to him through the tradition. The final pile included people like Fudge and Rita Skeeter who had actively opposed him, distant acquaintances like Florean Fortescue and Luna's dad, and even some people he'd never heard of before. He set those aside for tomorrow, figuring he could wheedle Snape into helping him decipher them, and opened Neville's first. The heavy card looked identical to the one Ron had given Neville, the crest on the front done in red ink and gold leaf and the writing inside in messy black ink that tended to fade out where Neville neglected to dip his quill frequently enough.

_Harry,_

_I'm only a day older, but I wanted to share this tradition with you even though you've probably got a whole pile of other letters. You'll need to write everyone thank-you notes, so here's my advice: get a packet of them at the stationer's and buy a Quick-Quotes Quill, then get Professor Snape to help you compose a polite reply and send that to everyone but your close friends._

_Thanks again for the party, even though we've not had it yet when I'm writing this. I just know it's going to be really great, much better than tea with my relatives was._

_Your friend,  
Neville Longbottom_

Harry couldn't help but smile at that, turning the single Galleon over in his palm. He would definitely take Neville's advice, and appreciated the thoughtfulness that had gone into it, just as had gone into his gift. Harry tucked Neville's card and coin away and took the next letter off the acquaintances pile, thinking that he often underestimated Neville's intelligence, and he shouldn't let Snape's bad opinion rub off.

A whole handful of gold fell out of Professor McGonagall's letter, landing in his lap in a glittering pile. He stacked them up, counting thirteen, and then looked to her letter for an explanation.

_Mr. Potter,_

_As your Head of House, it is customary for this gift to be somewhat larger. Each coin is to be accompanied by a piece of wisdom, and each of these sayings has been passed on through Gryffindor generations. Take them for what they are worth, both the gold and the advice, but know that it was a pleasure to share in your celebration._

There were 13 sayings that reminded Harry of courage-themed fortune cookies, and the card was signed simply with her name. His favourite was the one that reminded him most of her, "We are all motivated by the same urges. Cats have the courage to live by them." Harry put it and the coins back away, and then took another envelope from the friends stack.

Ron's card contained advice regarding Silencing Spells and Lubrication Charms that made Harry laugh, and a single bronze Knut that was obviously meant to keep him laughing. It was stamped with the year of Harry's birth, though, and that made it a sort of memento, so he tucked it away just as carefully as he had McGonagall's Galleons. Moody's card had a postscript of, "Constant Vigilance!" and contained a silver Sickle and advice about werewolves that made Harry roll his eyes. That would definitely get a form reply, which would likely get hexed into ash before Moody ever read the thing anyway.

The rest of the cards were a mix of serious and teasing, Molly's letter full of household tips and Arthur's separate note a rather fitting little tale about taking apart things one couldn't put back together again, Hermione's full of earnestness and Muggle coins, while the twins' cards both contained sex advice, a long treatise on rimming begun in Fred's and continuing unabated in George's. Harry read through both piles, smiling and nodding and sipping the sweet, hot cider, until he had only one left. Snape's.

Harry opened it with trembling fingers, and one Galleon, one Sickle and one Knut fell into his palm. The card had the Slytherin crest in all its glory, and the inside was filled with Snape's spindly handwriting.

_Dear Harry,_

_It is presumptuous of me, but you hold in your hand the traditional gift from a man to his betrothed bride on her day of majority, given in anticipation of their marriage. The Galleon's gold represents prosperity, the silver Sickle a ward against the Dark, and the Knut a hope for happiness beyond the material. All of these things I would wish for you, and more, and I hope you do not object to this small abuse of custom._

_I find it difficult to pen advice to you, who looks to me for so much already. I have shared the mistakes of my past, and the wisdom gained from them, as best I could. I suppose if there was only one thing I could say to you, it would be this: hearts are fickle, as is their wont, and the ways of love are mysterious and often painful, but love is always more powerful than hate._

_I will wait for you to make ready, stand by your side as you complete your task, and catch you when you fall over once it is done. Do try not to make me regret this new loyalty as I have the old, though some pain is always to be expected with such drastic change._

_Yours despite myself,  
Severus_

_P.S. It would also be appreciated if you would kindly refrain from requiring further rescue at risk of life and limb. I find myself ever more fond of both as time goes on._

Harry found himself laughing quietly, his eyes bright and chest constricting with the thought of waiting, and the endless tasks ahead before he could fall into the arms he longed for so desperately. He tucked the letter back in the bundle with the rest, but the single Knut stayed out, Snape's hope and his own grown warm against his palm, his fingers wandering blindingly over the face until he thought he might puzzle out the secret to happiness in its ridges and contours.

* * *

Snape's birthday on August the twenty-seventh was, by contrast, nearly unnoticed by the world at large, though a few extra owls showed at breakfast, and there were individual cakes at tea, with icing of a deep forest green and the Slytherin crest on top, done in silver. The twins had given Severus a very private celebration last night, Harry giving up his second night with them gladly, knowing that it was a gift that only he could offer, and today it was just the two of them; Snape had been asked to accompany Harry to Diagon Alley tomorrow and return to school on Sunday, rather than going early as in previous years.

For once, Harry rather thought Snape might not have minded, since it gave him the chance to spend a few more days with Harry, free of lessons or other obligations, though the Weasleys were due to descend tomorrow for their school shopping trip and would spend the rest of the week. "Are you enjoying your last day of peace and quiet, Severus?" Harry asked, nibbling on a little sandwich which, despite being cut in the shape of a clover, appeared to contain shrimp curry.

"I am indeed," Snape replied, nearly all of his old stiffness gone for these few moments alone. He nibbled the point off a moon-shaped watercress sandwich and eyed the rest of the assortment dubiously, obviously not approving of the elves' desire to make the occasion more festive than usual.

Harry had Snape's gifts next to him, two packages wrapped in bright paper, and his hand kept creeping toward them, hopeful that now would be a good time to proffer them. "Oh, good," said Harry absently, eyes flicking to the presents and back to Snape.

Snape chuckled and set down his tea. "Very well," he said, holding out his hand, "I can tell you're dying to show me what you've found, though I only remember one present for me with that owl."

Harry grinned, pleased that Snape had remembered after all, and handed him that one first. "Have you wondered at all what's in it?" he asked a bit plaintively.

Snape raised his eyebrow and smirked, hands already making short work of the tied ribbon. "Of course I have," he said, making Harry grin. "I am simply possessed of enough self-control not to concern myself overmuch with matters which will eventually sort themselves out. Ah." His deft fingers had unwrapped and opened the box while he spoke, revealing the red glass apple twined around by the green and silver snake. "This is lovely, Harry," he said, voice genuinely appreciative as he lifted the fragile phial out of the packing and set it gently on the table.

"There's a list of things you oughtn't put in it, because the red dye will leech out of the apple, but... it's for your collection," said Harry, feeling pleased and shy, hands stroking over the velvet ribbon of the second box, which he'd wrapped himself just this morning.

Snape seemed to sense that Harry had saved the more sentimental present for second, and there was none of the teasing left in his features as he opened the small box and lifted out the object inside. The fine silver chain tangled in Snape's hands and shone in the firelight, and from it dangled a handmade amulet of gold wire tangled around a single Knut. Harry had crafted the silly little bauble himself, having wheedled the twins into getting the supplies for him, and then cast a minor protective charm on the whole thing, one that required all three precious metals as a base. The Knut wasn't one of his birthday gifts, either -- Harry had found one stamped with the year of Snape's birth, searching through a whole pile out of the twins' cash drawer before finding the right one.

"Do... do you like it?" Harry asked timidly, after Snape had stared at the rough little trinket for a long, silent moment.

Snape's eyes glittered as they turned to Harry, that same fierce light they'd held when Harry had worn Snape's ring for chess, and it made Harry squirm in his chair. "You've spelled it?" Snape asked, and Harry swallowed nervously.

"Yes, sir, I... I'd seen the charm in one of the books you'd had me study for Defence, and after your gift on my birthday I thought... well, it was something more important to either of us than the bottle," he explained, stammering, wondering if he'd overstepped his bounds somehow.

Snape undid the clasp with slightly trembling fingers, then fastened it around his neck, tucking the talisman charm away against his skin as it was meant to be -- the charm worked best when it rested close to the wearer's heart, according to the book. "It is a lover's gift," said Snape, his voice just a touch rough.

Harry smiled, then bravely reached out and laid one of his hands over Snape's, surprised as usual by how warm the pale fingers were. "A gift of hope," he said, echoing Snape's letter.

Snape's fingers curled around Harry's, and he pulled, gentle and slow enough that Harry could easily have moved away, had he been foolish enough to wish to. They leaned toward one another slowly, lips meeting with a deliberateness that had been missing from all their prior kisses. Harry never wanted the moment to end, though he knew Snape would allow them no more than this, and he held onto Snape's hand tightly as though that would keep them joined in other ways. Snape's mouth was slow and thorough, and Harry's no less so, drawing the kiss out into the promise of a lifetime of such kisses.

He barely even noticed the fire flaring up, he was so intent on kissing Snape, and thus it was an exceptionally unpleasant surprise when Snape pulled away, sat back and said calmly, "Headmaster, what brings you here at this hour?"

Dumbledore looked thunderous, and Harry clung to Snape's hand despite the way the headmaster's eyes narrowed when he looked at their twined fingers. "I was coming to give you your birthday wishes in person, though I see you've allowed Harry to beat me to it," said Albus dangerously.

"It was just one kiss, Professor," Harry protested, though he knew he was flushed and bright-eyed as though they'd been snogging all day. "A birthday kiss."

One of the chairs came skittering over and Albus sat down, looking from one to another with slow deliberation. He fixed himself a cup of tea and sat back, his expression softened from anger into the sublime disappointment he wore so well. "You will be back at school in just four days," he said, his voice effortlessly conveying his deep sadness that they showed so little self-restraint. "I had hoped that there would be no need to remind the two of you that everything hinges on your ability to remain apart, including Severus' career at Hogwarts."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "You're not going to sack him?" he blurted, needing confirmation of this one fact before enduring the rest of Dumbledore's lecture.

"No, I will not dismiss him for a single birthday kiss," said Dumbledore, shooting their joined hands another narrow-eyed glare. "Indulgences have been allowed this summer, but tomorrow the Weasleys and Miss Granger will arrive, and you cannot be seen fraternizing with one another on such a familiar level." His voice grew sharp at the end, and Harry swallowed and nodded.

Beside him, Snape did the same, his fingers giving Harry's a comforting squeeze. "I understand," he said, sounding as cold as Harry had ever heard him. "You will find no evidence of my inappropriate desires once this evening is over."

"Will you still allow our lessons?" Harry asked, knowing he needed them, and probably more besides.

"Yes, Harry, you will be allowed both sets of lessons," said Dumbledore, giving Snape an opaque look. "Austereus Snape can be trusted to chaperone you in Snape's quarters, and his office is not quite private enough that he would risk such disgrace, even for you."

"Then I believe we need speak no more of this," said Snape, just as a third little green cake appeared on the tea table next to Dumbledore's cup. "It is time for cake."

Harry nearly laughed in relief when Dumbledore nodded his agreement and they all relaxed, though the twinkle was missing from Dumbledore's eyes. They all picked up the little cakes and dug in, finding that Harry's was a dense chocolate with a warm, gooey fudge centre, Snape's was also chocolate but with lemon curd between the layers of light, fluffy cake, and Dumbledore's was a rainbow with strawberry, blueberry and snozzberry fillings in between bright layers of blue, yellow, red and green cake.

After a few moments of silent eating, Harry smiled shyly at Snape and said quietly, "Happy birthday, Professor."

Snape cracked a smile as though he resented being unable to resist, and a bit of the tension flowed out of his body. "Thank you, Potter."

That seemed to remind Dumbledore of his original purpose, and he set down his cake plate, took a sip of tea, and produced a small box from his voluminous purple-and-fuchsia robes. It was wrapped in silver paper that shimmered like a lake in the sunlight, and the obnoxious green bow began to wave its little curls and sing as soon as Snape accepted the gift.

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Snape, his tone conveying quite the opposite. The last of his cake was also abandoned in favour of removing the bow rather forcefully, thankfully halting the noise. Off came the wrapping, which Harry snagged and began to toy with as Snape opened the small tin and peered inside.

Snape drew out a small object that looked like a normal Muggle toffee, golden wrapper shining brightly. "What is it?" Harry asked, noting the glint that indicated the tin was full of such treats.

"Felix Felicis Toffee," said Snape wryly. "A rather rare confection, which is not only tasty but offers approximately one minute of luck per dose."

"Cool," said Harry, grinning unrepentantly now that their indiscretion had passed without spoiling what little celebration Snape had allowed.

"Everyone needs a bit of luck now and again," said Dumbledore, the twinkle back in his eyes as he peered over his glasses at them. He was polishing off the last bites of cake, and Harry held out some small hope that they'd be allowed a bit more privacy tonight, not for kissing so much as just to hold onto the fragile friendship they'd been forming for a few hours more, before tomorrow came and forced them back into their narrower roles of wayward student and stern professor.

Not that Harry thought he'd mind a little game of that, under other circumstances, and he filed it away with the rest of his perverse little fantasies, promising himself that he'd write it down in the spell-locked journal he'd saved just for that. He was of a mind to present it to Snape at the end of the year, sort of a request list of ideas to keep them busy in the years to come, not that he thought they'd need it. He knew Snape was creative, wicked and, from speaking with the twins, as perverse as Harry could hope for.

He dragged his mind up out of the gutter just in time to see Dumbledore looking at him oddly, and he flushed and poured himself another cup of tea. "More tea, Professors?" he asked formally, only his eyes betraying his mischievousness as Snape shot him an opaque look.

"I'm afraid I have to be going," said Dumbledore, draining his cup and setting it down. "You two stay out of trouble, now," he added, looking rather more stern than Harry felt was strictly warranted.

"Yes, Headmaster," replied Harry, in a tone worthy of the twins.

"I shall endeavour to control myself," said Snape dryly, and Harry was amused that he could be so dignified when he'd just been caught snogging a student.

"You do that," said Dumbledore, standing. "I'll see you both in four days, at the start of term. Will you be joining the students on the train, Severus?"

"Heaven forbid," said Snape darkly. "No, I will Floo from here once Harry has left with the Weasley clan."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, looking satisfied. "We'll have time for a short meeting, then, just the two of us. Perhaps lunch."

Snape's eyes closed in resignation, and when he opened them, he had the same expression of irritated necessity he always did at the start of term, seeing all those new faces looking up at him in the Great Hall. "Yes, Headmaster," he said.

Harry was surprised into laughter and had to fake a coughing fit, and by the time he got control of himself, Dumbledore had gone. "Well, that was mortifying," Harry said, reaching for his cake to finish his interrupted confection.

A hand reached out and stopped Harry's wrist, drawing him close to Snape once again. "I believe," he said, glancing at the fireplace with an expression of dark amusement, "that we have a kiss to finish."

Harry let out a helpless little moan, and it was all he could do not to crawl into Snape's lap when their lips met again. Despite Snape's words, this kiss was no continuation of the first gentle sharing, instead an unmistakeable claiming with Snape's lips fierce on Harry's own kiss-bruised mouth. It lingered on and on until Harry was breathless, helpless, and had sunk completely into that place where he'd have let Snape do anything at all to him, so long as he didn't stop.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what Snape did endless minutes later, when first his tongue retreated from its foray into Harry's welcoming mouth, then the lips pulled gently back, and finally the hand loosened from where it had gripped and tangled in his hair. "Happy birthday to me," said Snape sardonically, and Harry couldn't help but grin like an idiot.

"Happy your birthday to both of us, I think," said Harry goofily.

They spent the rest of the evening at more appropriate pursuits, playing chess and talking about the future like proper friends, but Harry's mind never left those few delightful moments when both he and Snape had demonstrated incontrovertibly just exactly to whom Harry belonged. Snape didn't let him forget it for the rest of the night, either, demonstrating his intimate knowledge of Harry's sexual fantasies -- gleaned through many Occlumency lessons and etiquette practice sessions -- by doing things to bring several of them to mind. Long fingers caressed the chess pieces whenever he made a move, bare toes brushed over Harry's legs whenever Snape shifted, innuendo found its way into every facet of the conversation, and Harry nearly crawled over the chess set when his captured Bishop was tapped against Snape's kiss-bruised lips, Snape's tongue flicking out wickedly to lick the tip.

Harry went to bed smiling and horny and, he thought, having had just about the best Snape's birthday he could have expected at this juncture, even with Dumbledore's interruption.


	17. Transitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes the transition from one sort of schooling to another.

The next few days went by in flashes, starting with the trip to Diagon Alley. It was as if some strange hand had taken his very first visit with the Weasleys and mixed it up with the very latest one with Snape, then added a dash of, "Hurry up, children," every half hour just to keep things interesting. Harry spent the rest of the time getting packed and reacquainted with his friends, and before he knew it, it was the morning of the first. Everyone was rushing to get ready to go to King's Cross while Snape scowled at them and gave Harry no opportunity to steal a last anything; Snape barely offered an indifferent and entirely unsatisfying farewell.

He spent the train ride brooding on the inequities of his life and hoping his marks, if not his chances of survival, would be improved by his summer of extra lessons under Snape's watchful eye. He hadn't been able to skive off at all as Snape's only student, and the Professor was merciless in his criticism although, ever since Harry's shouting in Occlumency, he had made more of an effort to explain what Harry didn't understand. Harry had a sinking feeling it wouldn't last much into the year, and vowed to keep up with his revising so that the etiquette lessons, at least, would be tolerable.

Which brought him to the other thing he'd miss; Fred and George wouldn't be able to pop over for a shag twice a week while Harry was staying in the dorm, and Harry's body hadn't yet gotten the memo. Just the memory of their creative farewell lesson had him squirming a bit in his seat, glad that Luna was busy toying with Neville's new plant, and Ron and Hermione had wandered off to the Prefect's car, so no one was paying him and his erection one whit of attention.

He managed to get things under control by thinking of unpleasant potions ingredients, just in time to be herded off the train and into the coaches, then finding his seat in the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione by rote. He glanced up at the head table and found Snape watching him, black eyes full of things Harry couldn't name and something that wasn't quite the usual sneer decorating his mouth. Harry resisted the urge to blow him a kiss, and instead explained to a curious Neville that the Danger Daisy had mostly been cared for by the house elves and, in fact, was being delivered to Hogwarts by Dobby rather than have the delicate plant jostled during travel.

Impatient for the food to arrive, Harry pulled out his new watch and looked at it. One of the hands pointed to the number 291 while another sat resolutely in a patch of green the colour of new leaves, a couple of the dials were whirring away happily, and a little window had opened up to the left of centre with a picture of an owl in it. He still had no idea what any of it meant, but sometimes he thought he almost might, and anyway, pondering its mysteries gave him something to do besides watch Ron and Hermione pretend not to moon at one another.

The food arrived, and gave him something else to do. He took a little of all his favourites and glanced up again to see Snape scowling at the new Defence teacher, a willowy bloke with boyishly curly brown hair and a quick smile who Harry was sure would turn out to be incompetent or insane or both, and for just a moment Harry felt as if he were home. Hogwarts might not be the best, safest or even sanest place in the world to be, but it was the very first place where Harry had ever been happy.

It didn't hurt that it was where he'd met Snape.

* * *

Gryffindor Tower was the usual hustle and bustle of students, the older ones greeting friends long-missed, the firsties mostly staring in wonder at everything around them. Harry let himself get caught up with his mates, Seventh Years now and entitled to the very best seats by the fire with Lavender and Seamus making eyes at one another, Dean playing Exploding Snap with Ron and Neville smiling shyly in his corner.

"How did your summer go, Harry?" asked Parvati, looking more interested in him now that Snape had polished off some of the rough edges.

"Long," said Harry, though of course that wasn't the half of it. "I had remedial everything with Snape as my keeper the whole summer." This declaration was met with sympathetic groans and a pity chocolate frog from Dean, though he kept the card, as it was one of the new set that he didn't have yet.

"I bet you'll do brilliantly on your NEWTs, though," said Hermione, getting laughs from the group that were a bit strained; they'd all be feeling the NEWTs pressure soon enough, even those who only had three or four classes.

"I hope so, or all those headaches were for nothing," Harry replied, then regaled them with one of the safer tales of his Dark Arts lessons, one of many entertaining humiliations he'd suffered at the end of Snape's wand. Soon enough even the sting of Snape's dismissal today was fading as he began to think of himself as just another student, albeit one with a particularly heinous schedule and far too many adults poking about in his life.

Ron took over with a story of his own, of Percy's appearance at Harry and Neville's party, getting the gossip out of the way himself rather than having his friends hear third-hand that his big brother was gay. Harry squirmed at the ensuing talk, staying quiet despite the sympathetic looks from Neville and Hermione -- Ron seemed to have already forgotten about Harry's preference, or perhaps decided that it didn't matter when it was Harry. Surprisingly, most of the wizard-born students didn't have any problem with it, though Dean found the whole idea of it a bit odd.

"He did it so perfectly, can't you see?" said Parvati, when Dean said once again that he didn't understand why a bloke had to go advertising it. "It was absolutely proper, he wore his token to a gathering of friends, he hasn't gone trying to hit on his friends or anything. In a way it's almost romantic, you know, like declaring himself the lonely bachelor forever." Lavender sighed right along with her, and Harry had to fight not to roll his eyes, even though he agreed in principle.

"This way no one will try and fix him up with girls, and there's no more expectation that he'll get married," said Harry, speaking up for the first time in the discussion. "And if some girl needs a chaperone, not that they do that much these days, Percy's considered as safe as your maiden aunt. So in a way, it's not like he's some Muggle in a pink spangled top saying he's out and proud or anything, he's just gone and quietly let it be known that he's not on the market for a wife anymore."

"Huh," said Dean, looking almost thoughtful. "Do they have stuff like that for witches, like in those romance novels, all coming-out balls and courting and stuff?"

"Sadly, no, not anymore," said Lavender, with an air of one who'd spent hours bemoaning just this fact. "Mostly it's just meeting up and dates and such, though there are some older families, the pureblood ones, that still have balls and such where a man like Percy would be a safe escort for an unmarried girl who wanted to find herself a suitable husband."

Harry coughed, suddenly very glad that those traditions were dying out, envisioning himself dragged to an endless round of incredibly boring dances by all his female acquaintances, once he, too, had outed himself. "I suspect that's for the best," said Harry wryly. "After all, I can't imagine it's a gay man's paradise, to be hauled around a dance floor by bored matrons night after night while his date stalks the eligible bachelor of her choice."

They all laughed at that image and the subject turned to the unfortunate Yule Ball from their fourth year, which got him and Ron a certain amount of good-natured ribbing before the conversation wandered away again.

Eventually the fire grew dim and the hour late, and Harry found it stranger than ever to go back up to the dorms and try to sleep in the tiny-seeming bed he'd stayed in for the past six years, all alone with no hope for company any time soon, at least not of the overnight, naked sort. He could hear the breathing around him, but it was too far away for comfort tonight, and he huddled in the middle of his blankets, missing the twins and trying very hard not to resent Professor Snape for stealing his Severus away. At least Neville had promised to take over the care and feeding of Horton and his Daisy, since there were half a dozen others in the greenhouses, though the lipstick plant had made a reappearance in the dorms and Harry could just make out the obscene blossoms where it hung near Neville's bed, green leaves and red petals both looking black in the moonlight.

He drifted off and dreamed predictable dreams, and woke early enough to spell away the stickiness from his stomach before getting up and being first in the shower. He wanted to look good, or as good as he ever did, anyway, for his very first class of his very last year at Hogwarts -- Potions.

* * *

Harry paused outside the familiar classroom door, palms sweating despite the chill dungeon air, heart racing and expectations varying wildly from one moment to the next. Deep down, he knew nothing could really change for better or worse, but that didn't stop his imagination from painting him pictures of everything from being greeted with a kiss to being yelled at even worse than he had been in Fifth Year after the Pensieve incident. He took a deep breath, wiped his palms on his robes, accepted the attendant funny look from Hermione stoically, and went inside.

Ironically, after all his mental preparation, Snape wasn't even there yet.

Rather than take his usual seat with Hermione -- second row from the last, so Snape couldn't accuse them of hiding in the back anymore -- Harry dragged her up to second from the front, not quite willing to fight the usual assortment of Slytherins and Ravenclaws for the front spots. "You're always wanting to be closer," he said reasonably when Hermione gave him an odd look.

"And you're always fighting it. Don't tell me the summer really has mellowed him toward you," she replied, already pulling out her book, parchment, quill and ink.

"I think not," came a dark voice from behind them, and Snape swooped past them both, waving his wand at the blackboard to make instructions crawl across the surface in lines of charmed chalk. "I suggest you all settle in and begin demonstrating to me how little you've retained of last year's teachings, so that I may use the convenient House point system to remind you why it is best to revise before class and not during, Mr. Boot."

Terry flushed and stuffed his notes in his bag, opening the book to the page noted on the board. "Yes, sir, sorry, sir," he mumbled, pulling his cauldron out while his table mate, Morag McDougal, went to get ingredients from the student cupboards.

"I'll get the things," said Hermione, wisely refraining from any further commentary as Harry pulled out the proper cauldron, his mortar, pestle, knife and brass scales, and began by reading through the potion once in its entirety as Snape had taught him with painful repetition over the summer.

Harry looked up when Hermione came back and began to sort things in order of addition for them to begin. "We should do the three beetle mix first," said Harry absently, still reading over the tail end of the recipe. "It's got a tricky bit of timing, and won't be hurt sitting out for an extra ten minutes."

Hermione looked unflatteringly startled that Harry was making an intelligent contribution, but passed him the three jars of beetle carapaces without comment. Harry propped his book off to one side with a bit of magic and measured them carefully into his mortar, then took up the pestle and began to grind them into a uniform powder. He was surprised at just how much his skills had improved with three exclusive tutors, Snape providing the bulk of the lessons and the twins adding in their own measure of knowledge simply by being interested in the subject and willing to talk about it.

By the time he had the powder to the proper consistency, Hermione had the base, a mixture of equal parts mineral oil and seawater, bubbling merrily away in their cauldron as though they weren't two incompatible elements. "I'm almost done with the cherry blossom petals," she said without looking up, "if you wanted to add the murtlap essence and cacao nibs."

"Sure," said Harry, snagging the two phials from the head of Hermione's precise ingredients line. These only required measuring, so he carefully dripped in nine drops of the murtlap, and then weighed out seventeen grams of cacao nibs, adding and stirring according to the directions, using the careful, even motions that Snape had finally managed to teach him this summer. He blushed but kept counting as the memory washed over him, of Snape's chest against his back and Snape's hand over his, the fingers warm and gentle as they guided his own.

Hermione sprinkled the finely shredded petals over the surface of the cauldron and Harry kept stirring as the surface roiled, the pink slivers disappearing beneath as though snatched, and then a soft red colour suffusing the whole thing. Harry stopped stirring and flipped an hourglass, tapping it three times with his wand to get three minutes of sand. "I'll weigh, you do liquids?" he offered to Hermione, who kept pausing to stare at him as though he'd grown a second, more competent, head.

She shook herself and then nodded briskly, obviously not willing to let amazement jeopardize her grade. She measured each ingredient into one of the little bowls they both kept just for this purpose, lining them up in front of their bottles so there would be no question of what was what. Apparently, however, her tongue couldn't be held forever, and she asked halfway through, "Is this from tutoring or because you've got the hots for... someone?"

"Both," said Harry cheerfully, adding a few grains of black sand to the pile to get it exactly up to measure, then clearing the scales and starting again with newt eyes. "It's amazing what men can do when motivated by pathetic crushes."

A snort came from behind them, where Padma and Parvati were sharing a table; apparently they had trouble crediting anything properly romantic from someone who could ignore his date for an entire ball. "I was fourteen at the time, you know," he shot over his shoulder, waving a plump newt eyeball at them reproachfully.

"Our little Harry's all grown up now," said Malfoy from in front of him, and it was only the thought of Snape's disappointment that kept Harry from throwing the eye at him. Instead he added it to the pile on the scales, making a perfect six ounces, and then set them aside in order to measure the last dry ingredient, powdered sunsnail shells.

"Too bad you're not," said Harry under his breath, carefully measuring the shimmering stuff into a specially charmed glass dish; the dust could be harmful if inhaled, burning the sensitive tissues of the lungs until an antidote could be administered.

"It would behoove you to pay attention to a volatile ingredient rather than your classmates," came Snape's voice from behind him, and Harry winced. "Two points, and your hourglass is about to run out."

Harry just barely kept himself from swearing, and Hermione was there dumping in the wet ingredients and stirring just as ordered. "It'll be the sand and beetle mix next, why don't you use both hands and pour both, and I'll stir?"

"Perfect," said Harry with a grateful smile, picking up both bowls and waiting for her nod as she hit nineteen strokes. The two powders made a gentle hissing sound as they fell into the cauldron, leaving glittering trails in the pale green concoction. Thankfully, both bowls trickled empty at nearly the same time, and he snagged the newt eyes and began dropping them in one by one until they, like the flower petals, had all vanished beneath the opaque, glittering surface.

"Let me add the bat blood to the shell powder," said Hermione, once she'd counted out the last few strokes of the stirring rod and left it to sit. "That's the last ingredient, so you can start putting things away."

"All right," said Harry, happy to give her the most volatile bit of work. Despite having been far too busy to watch Snape the way he dearly wanted to, he'd been aware of being in the same room with the object of his affections, with his prick acting as a lodestone that always pointed toward Snape.

"It's too glittery," said Snape, leaning over to peer at the surface of their potion. The green had brightened up to the yellowish tinge of new leaves, which Harry was fairly sure was the correct shade. "More of the beetles should have dissolved by now, provided you did everything properly."

He swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth and said in a reasonable voice, "Did I add the beetles and sand too quickly?"

"That remains to be seen, once your cohort adds the final ingredients," said Snape, nodding toward where Hermione had the eyedropper full of blood poised carefully over the sand, dribbling the fluid over the fine grains with obsessive care.

"Yes, sir," said Harry as Snape moved off, feeling as though he'd just escaped. Though he'd braced himself for it, Harry was still surprised at how much it hurt to be relegated back to just another pathetic student, incapable of properly adding beetles to a Sight-Enhancing Solution.

"Don't mind him, Harry, it's already looking better," said Hermione soothingly, the dropper set aside, and the ground shells evenly coated in gruesome-looking red.

"We don't add that until it turns properly yellow, right?" Harry asked, though a glance at the book would have confirmed it just as well. The liquid still held a distinct green tinge, though it was fading fast.

"'The yellow of brightest sunshine'," Hermione quoted, tapping the dish with her wand to dismiss the charm that kept its contents inside no matter how it was tipped.

"Paler than this, then," said Harry, a pile of used glassware in front of him just waiting for a good Scourgify.

"Right," she said, holding the dish poised. It was important, according to the book, that it all go in at once, right in the centre, and the fire be doused at the exact moment it went in.

Harry poised his wand as they waited, watching the last of the green vanish and the colour grow brighter, whiter. "I think it's ready... now!" said Hermione, dumping in the little cake of red, just as Harry dismissed the flame spell. They both stared expectantly and the potion gave one huge burp and changed from day to night, little flecks of sunsnail shell making stars in the midnight blue liquid.

"It appears that even the famous can be taught... eventually," said Snape sardonically from the front of the class. "Potter, I do believe that you have managed to create an actual, useful potion."

Hermione looked expectant; everyone else who had finished correctly had been awarded House points. Harry could only admire her foolish optimism; they were, after all, two of only three Gryffindors in the Seventh Year NEWT class. "Thank you, sir," said Harry, turning to cast the appropriate cleaning spells on all their glassware.

He'd nearly thought Snape had moved on until he heard something that made every jaw in the room drop. "Five points to Gryffindor," said Snape dismissively, turning to examine the placid blue surface of Malfoy's potion.

Harry felt it was a lucky thing that Hermione had elected to be the one to decant their creation and not him, or else he'd have dropped the phial and gotten them a zero after all. Hermione beamed, looking insufferably smug, while Harry returned ingredients to the cupboard in a daze.

Apparently, even Snape could be swayed by love, or at least regular sex from the twins and a lot of mooning about on Harry's part.

Of course, Snape also had to have the last word. When Harry and Hermione turned in their summer essays at the end of class, Snape eyed them with distaste and commented dryly, "Don't get used to it."


	18. Higher Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a pair of advanced lessons from Snape.

Thursday afternoon, nearly two weeks after the start of term, Harry found himself outside Snape's rooms with his Occlumency journal in one hand and the other poised in front of the door. His etiquette lessons had been scheduled for Saturdays, to afford them the freedom to entertain visitors in Snape's rooms or go out on Hogsmeade weekends to practice public decorum. Thankfully, Dumbledore had agreed that Austereus would provide sufficient chaperone for their everyday schoolwork, though Snape and Harry both failed to mention that their first kiss had taken place right under the portrait's painted nose.

Harry shoved those thoughts away and tried to concentrate on the lesson at hand, forcing himself to stand up straight and knock, sifting through the mental images he'd prepared and hoping Snape would give him a bit of a break this first time, despite all past evidence to the contrary.

"Do stop dawdling, Potter," said Snape, holding the door open and motioning for Harry to proceed through to his private sitting room.

"Er, sorry, sir," said Harry, though he was still a few minutes early, and couldn't have made Snape wait very long. He hurried into the sitting room, finding it much as he'd seen it last, minus the chess table. The two chairs had been moved closer to the fire and Austereus' sombre portrait, and there was tea and biscuits laid out on the table between them. "Tea, sir?" he asked, plopping down into one of the chairs anyway and hoping for a peaceful cuppa before the torment began.

"I have decided that a review of what little knowledge you've managed to gain would best assist me in planning our lessons," said Snape, taking the other seat and holding out his hand. "Your notebook, if you please."

"Oh, right," said Harry, handing off the journal. They'd both been getting frustrated with Harry's progress, or lack thereof, near the end of summer -- Harry could keep Snape trapped in one of his many wanking memories well enough, but when he tried for the empty blankness of a true Occlumens, Snape easily overwhelmed him time and again. "Er, is the tea for us?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Who else would it be for, the portrait?"

"I'm afraid I am beyond such things, young Potter," said Austereus with a look of longing.

"I thought you could have, you know, painted tea?" Harry asked curiously, pouring for himself and Snape as well, since Snape already had his nose buried in Harry's journal. Harry floated one thin slice of lemon on top of Snape's tea just the way he knew Snape liked it and put the cup within easy reach, then began to make his own.

"Ah, well, it's just not the same," said Austereus, fiddling with one of the paperweights adorning the desk he'd been portrayed behind. "It all tastes a bit like paint."

Harry hid a snicker behind his teacup and sipped, turning it into a wistful smile of his own as he realized that he liked his tea better when Snape made it. "I understand," he said, setting his cup down. "Tea's one of those things that only tastes right when it's right."

"On the other hand," said Austereus, clearly enjoying the chance to converse with someone other than Snape, "Some days, any cuppa tastes heavenly, just because it's tea." He pulled a whole tea set into the painting from where the barest edge of the silver salver had been visible off to the left, and poured his own drink.

"Too true," said Harry with a grin, glancing over at Snape, who was pointedly ignoring them in favour of Harry's rather scribbly writing, though he was sipping the cup of tea Harry had fixed for him.

"What are you studying today, young man?" asked Austereus stiffly, when the silence between the three of them stretched too long.

"Occlumency," said Harry with a sigh. "I'm ars- um, not very good at it, really, but Se- the professor keeps trying to pound it into my skull."

"A spy's skill," said Austereus with a sniff. "One ought not have anything in one's mind that would be incriminating in the first place."

"It's more he's trying to keep Vo- er, the Dark Lord from taking me over through this," said Harry, touching the scar on his forehead. "I'm still impressionable youth and all," he added, figuring the stuffy portrait would appreciate the idea.

"Indeed. You ought to work on that stammering problem as well," said Austereus with the air of someone passing on their years of wisdom.

Harry was saved from replying when Snape closed the little book with a snap. "All that aside, I believe I see where your problem lies."

Harry resisted the urge to ask just which of his problems Snape was referring to, and nodded. "You've found out where I've got it wrong?"

Snape laid one hand on the book and took another sip. "Not wrong precisely, but I do think I see where the difficulty springs from. You do not like the idea of the empty dark as a trap, and when you are trapping me within the small, empty nothingness, you are in effect trapping yourself as well. Your walls are thin and weak because you fear remaining locked inside alone."

Harry stared at Snape, floored. "You got all that from my notes?"

Snape rolled his eyes again and passed the book back. "No, your notes simply confirm my theory, based on what I know of your unfortunate childhood."

"Oh," said Harry weakly, as it all clicked into place. He really _didn't_ like the idea of locking Snape in anywhere that wasn't a bedroom, but even more he hated going into that tiny nothingness, alone or with Snape, and most definitely didn't want to be trapped with Voldemort. Which, of course, rendered the whole thing useless. "So, er, what do we do about it?"

"We will construct a place of light instead, which you will hopefully have less difficulty utilising. A vast plain of endless space that he will be trapped inside because there will be no walls to batter down, only empty horizon on all sides," Snape replied, sitting back and taking a sip of his tea. A small smile flitted across his face for a moment before his stony facade slipped back into place.

Harry took heart from the smile and sipped his own tea. "So, it's more like a good feeling than a bad one, and that way I don't mind sharing it with you for however long?" he asked, nibbling on a tangy lemon biscuit and pondering the memories he could use to build from until he thought he knew just the right one.

"Correct," said Snape, taking another drink. "I can see you already have something in mind, so that will help. Today we're going to work on creating a new memory through visualisation, since having something concrete to throw at me seems to help you. I'll need to enter your mind, but if you don't resist then it will be easier than our usual encounters."

"Thank god for that," said Harry with heartfelt sincerity; he hadn't been looking forward to the unpleasantly violated and exhausted feeling he got after the worst of their lessons, much preferring to imagine a different sort of violation at Snape's hands.

Snape laughed, not the cold thing he unleashed as a weapon during classes, but a warm chuckle that drew an answering one from Harry. "I expect we're both relieved to have a different focus today," he said, laying his hand over Harry's with unexpected gentleness.

Harry turned his hand over so their fingers tangled together. "I'm ready," he said with an impish little smile, pretending that the physical contact helped anything besides his libido.

Snape shot him a knowing smirk, then took up his wand and cast, " _Legilimens_."

Harry concentrated on his chosen memory, of flying high above the Quidditch pitch until the world seemed like nothing but endless blue all around, then pulled Snape in with him using the little mental twist he'd been practicing for weeks. It all felt so real enhanced by Snape's magic like this that he nearly wobbled himself out of the sky when he felt a weight settle behind him on the broom. "Severus, what... how?"

"Magic, of course," said Snape, with the tone of one speaking the very obvious, his arms going around Harry's waist to stabilize himself. He was warm and solid against Harry's back, and Harry couldn't help but lean into him a little, back arching and arse rocking in hopes of finding a different long, hard thing to invite between his legs.

Harry's mind immediately went to other possibilities for this particular magic, but Snape interrupted his thoughts. "It won't work. Any hint of guilt will show all over your face the next time you speak to the Headmaster," said Snape, though he wasn't so averse to the idea that he didn't whisper it into Harry's ear, warm breath sending a shiver down Harry's spine and the blood rushing to his prick.

"Yes, sir," said Harry teasingly, and then he chuckled. "I wouldn't want to try and trap Vol- You Know Who in a memory like _that_ anyway," he said, torn between appalled and amused at the very thought.

"No," said Snape shortly, pulling back so his body was barely brushing Harry's, "You would not."

Harry flushed, remembering Snape's confession to him that night in the Leaky Cauldron, what seemed like years ago. "Sorry, I guess that's less funny than it seemed," he said apologetically. "Er, now how do we work this?"

Snape snorted, but he relented enough to move close again, gesturing widely with one arm, the other snug around Harry's waist once more. "We already have."

Harry blinked, then looked around again. This time, the sky was actually endless, nothing but blue forever above and below, as if he could fall or fly forever and never get anywhere but here. "Wow, I guess we did," he said, heart starting to pound with exhilaration at the thought of flying so high the ground just vanished. A grin split his face as he realized that this might actually work, now that they'd made a new memory from the old, not that he really understood how it had happened.

Snape's arms gave Harry a gentle squeeze, though his voice was blandly instructive as he explained. "Once I appeared in the memory it no longer conformed to your actual experience, and your own instincts created this alternative with minimal guidance."

"It's nothing but sky and clouds and light," said Harry, zooming them around a little just because he could. It would be easy to get lost in here with nothing concrete to ground you, but that was part of the point, too -- if he could disorient anyone trying to get into his head too much to find a way out of his trap, all the better.

"Indeed," said Snape dryly; obviously he didn't approve of Harry's brief foray into poetry.

Harry snickered. "Yes, Professor," he said in a singsong voice, looking around just a little more. "That one looks sort of like a bunny," he said, pointing to one particularly well-formed cloud.

"If you have the presence of mind for such flights of fancy, it is time to conclude the lesson," said Snape, and Harry felt him vanish just as suddenly as he had appeared.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself that he wasn't flying really, but in his chair under the warmth of the fire and the sharp gaze of Austereus Snape's painting. He opened his eyes, but the sky was still there, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Well, it was obviously a good trap if even he couldn't find his way out, but he knew there had to be one. He concentrated on the senses that were missing, trying to smell the tea, hear the crackle of the fire, taste the lingering sweetness of the biscuit on his tongue. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, and slowly he could feel reality begin to return and hear Snape speaking as if from a great distance.

"...come out of it on his own, Austereus, or it won't do him any good at all," Snape was arguing as Harry pried his eyes open, grateful for once to be back in the grip of gravity.

"I'm all right," said Harry, blinking up at the concerned portrait. "He's right, I had to find my way out by myself, or else I'd never believe I could, and I'd be too scared to go back."

Snape looked terribly smug as he sat back and took a sip of his tea, and Austereus harrumphed. "Next time will be quicker," said Snape, his tone challenging despite the reassurance offered in his words.

Harry took it as both and nodded. "Yes, next time I'll have got the hang of it. Er, but not today, right?"

"Not today," said Snape, pointing his wand in the air and conjuring a small clock face. "It has grown quite late."

Harry was shocked to find that over two hours had passed since the start of their lesson. "Was all that while we were... in my head?"

"For the most part. It took a great deal of time for you to win free of your own illusion, which appears to involve a degree of timelessness," Snape replied calmly, with just a hint of approval creeping into his voice at the end.

Harry grinned and said, "Looks like I did a brilliant job then, eh?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Do better next time," he said, standing. He stalked to his bookshelves, sadly not the same one that had produced the sex book, and returned with a tatty old textbook. "I wish you to read my own notes from the time I learned the art, keeping in mind my age and... areas of interest, at the time they were written," he said, handing it over reluctantly.

Harry tamped down his inner glee at getting some potential insight into what Snape might have been like at his own age and forced himself to nod seriously. "Thank you, Severus. I promise not to abuse your trust," he said quietly, smoothing his hand over the cover. _From the Dark_ , it read, though the much of the gold had flaked off the lettering, making the subtitle impossible to decipher.

"My Defence Against the Dark Arts text for Seventh Year," said Snape, running one long finger over the letters in something like a caress.

At least that explained why they were nearly worn away. "I'll take good care of it," said Harry.

"Keep it away from your fellow idiots," said Snape, pulling his hand back and sitting abruptly. "Upon retrospect, it is obvious that the text was designed to lure students through the fuzzy grey areas of Defence and into the Dark Arts themselves, but the slant is not as apparent when one is young and naive."

Harry swallowed and nodded; that explained why they didn't use it in class anymore, anyway. "Yes, sir," he said, setting it aside and picking up his tea and another couple of biscuits.

"Did you have any questions?" asked Snape pointedly. He glanced at the clock, which was ticking merrily on past both their theoretical bedtimes, and Harry flushed.

"No, sorry," said Harry, stuffing a biscuit in his mouth and then finishing off his tea in one gulp. "I'll let you get to bed. Sorry." He swallowed again, mouth suddenly dry as his mind crowded with thoughts of Snape undressing button by button, Snape running those graceful hands all over his wet skin during his nightly bath, Snape laid out in his dark bed between the crisp white sheets, beckoning for Harry to join him.

"Indeed," said Snape, one eyebrow raised in such a way that Harry was sure his thoughts showed on his face quite clearly.

Harry ate the last biscuit, clutched both books to his chest and stood. "Thank you for the tea and the excellent lesson, Professor, and for watching over us, Mr. Snape, sir," he said, addressing the last to the disgruntled portrait in an attempt to show Snape that he hadn't forgotten all of his etiquette in the past two weeks.

"You're welcome, I'm sure," said Austereus, still put out by losing the argument to his descendent. "I will see you Saturday for your etiquette lesson, I hear?" he added politely, though clearly that whole idea filled him with the sort of displeasure certain people enjoyed to the hilt.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, "Thank you, sir." He turned back to Snape and asked, "Should I bring that journal as well?"

"That would be best, yes," said Snape, smirking ever so slightly at the discomfited portrait. "I trust it is not too personal for propriety."

Harry couldn't help but laugh; if they'd been notes on the twins' lessons, then he'd understand, but most of his etiquette notes were about the meanings of things and lists for him to memorise, ideas for how to try and be clever which almost never panned out in actual conversation. "No, sir, it's all stuff that relates directly."

"Excellent," said Snape, his tone an obvious dismissal as he went back to sipping his tea.

"Right. See you Saturday!" said Harry, escaping while his skin was still intact. Harry couldn't really complain about the lesson as it had been their easiest yet, but at the same time he never quite trusted this new, amenable Snape at times like this. It would be far too easy for them both to fall back into old habits and old animosities, and Harry didn't think he had the stomach for it any longer.

* * *

Saturday morning at breakfast, Harry was surprised to find himself among the few recipients of mail. He fished the heavy, cream-coloured envelope out of his porridge and wiped it clean, then fed the delivery owl a bit of bacon, though he was careful to keep a few scraps for Hedwig. He hadn't seen her in awhile, and he knew she got lonely up there in the owlery, so he'd make sure to visit before his afternoon lesson.

Harry nibbled his interrupted breakfast, staring at the envelope with a mix of confusion and anticipation. He recognized Snape's handwriting on the front, but couldn't for the life of him figure out why Snape would send him a letter. A swig of pumpkin juice and he plucked up his courage, hoping it wasn't some sort of dismissal, and cracked the green wax of the seal. A smaller note fell out, but Harry ignored it for the time being in favour of the main message.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I trust this missive finds you well._

_You are cordially invited to tea at four o'clock this afternoon, in my quarters. We will be joined by a mutual acquaintance._

_Wizarding attire, and RSVP, kindly requested._

_Yours,  
Severus Snape_

Harry grinned; he suspected that the "mutual acquaintance" was Austereus' portrait, which had agreed to take a more active part in their lessons from time to time, providing a foil for their conversation, though he'd refused to attempt in any way to elicit Harry's affections. Still, it would be interesting to wear robes that weren't the simple student ones, and good practice to sit a more formal tea with Snape rather than their usual casual games of chess or rambling conversations by the fire. Harry tucked the letter away in his robes, then pulled out a quill and penned a quick, formal reply on the smaller card provided for just that purpose, sending it off with the owl and shooting another glance toward Snape's disinterested face.

* * *

Harry smoothed down his robes one last time, admiring himself in the mirror; he never felt quite so much like a proper wizard as when he was wearing real robes, the sort with nothing but pants underneath and enough weight to them that he didn't feel like he was wearing a dress instead. He went to his trunk and removed the final piece of his outfit, not the bracelet of snakes that he'd worn at their practice, but the heavy cuff of red and yellow gold; the simple pattern of twined, flattened wire made a nice contrast to the plain, deep blue style of his robes.

He checked to be sure he had everything he'd need: his etiquette journal, a self-inking quill, and a small guesting-gift of sweets he'd bought in Diagon Alley for just this sort of thing. He glanced at the clock, and left anyway, figuring he'd get waylaid in the common room, or dawdle on his way to the dungeons.

In the end, he just showed up early.

Harry was surprised to find the door to Snape's office ajar and voices coming out of it as he approached, and he hung back for a moment, indecisive.

"...won't mind?" said a naggingly familiar voice.

"Of course not," Snape's voice answered, not the cold teacher voice Harry had just begun to get used to again but the warmth that Harry had heretofore only heard him use with the twins, or Harry himself. "I assure you..." Snape's voice went too low to understand, and Harry got a disconcerting image of Snape whispering intimately to whomever it was in there with him.

Harry found himself propelled forward before he'd even properly made the decision to move, and he knocked politely on the open door. "Professor?" he said, peeking into the office, "Am I too... oh, Percy!" Harry blushed and smiled, and tried to banish the small core of doubt inside him that wondered why Snape was being so, so _personable_ with Percy.

"Harry! It's so good to see you again," said Percy, his own cheeks picking up a hectic flush of red. "I was just asking Professor Snape..."

"Severus, please," interrupted Snape, shooting Harry a significant glance. "I was just assuring him that you wouldn't mind at all if he attended one of your lessons."

Percy swallowed, and Harry didn't have the heart to be jealous of the earnest young man in front of him, who so very obviously wanted to fit in. Harry thought about how he might feel, if he'd made it to Percy's age and had no one at all to confide in about his wayward sexuality, and let genuine welcome bleed into his smile. "Of course I don't mind," he said, closing Snape's office door and moving into the room. "You'll have to be patient with me, though, I'm still learning all the proper signals."

Harry glanced down at Percy's left hand, eyes lingering on the ring still glinting on the smallest finger there as though it were some other, more intimate part of Percy. Percy's flush deepened gratifyingly, and his spine straightened just the tiniest bit more. "As I, myself, have had no formal... introduction to these matters, I'm sure we'll be on nearly equal footing. It is only Pr- Severus who shall have to endure our fumbling about."

"Which I can assure you I am quite accustomed to," said Snape, opening the door to his quarters and gesturing for them to precede him. "I have been giving these lessons for nearly as long as young Mister Potter has been alive."

Harry shot him a glare, as if to remind him that they weren't so very far apart in age as all that, and led Percy into the room that was slowly becoming as familiar to him as his own. There were three chairs grouped around the tea service this time, and Austereus was nowhere to be found, his desk sitting empty above the cheerful fire. "Tell me," said Harry, taking the seat furthest from the door, "How are things going with you lately, Percy?"

Percy took the chair opposite, leaving the middle one for Snape, who followed on their heels, inner door firmly closed behind him. Percy smiled and fiddled with his ring, shrugging. "It's been... different. I never really was the sort to get women flirting at work, so that hasn't changed much, but I do get less invitations to tea from the shop ladies."

Harry looked surprised. "Do you wear it always, then?" he asked, nodding toward Percy's hands. Snape raised an eyebrow at him before pouring, hands moving with their usual mesmerising grace as they prepared tea, first for Percy, then Harry, and finally Snape's own lemon-scented cup.

"No, no," said Percy quickly, looking faintly appalled. "No, but the gossip, you know. At least I'm... I've been attending Sunday dinners at the Burrow again." He accepted the tea from Snape with a quiet thanks, looking shy and radiating a sort of nervous happiness, as though he worried any misstep would get him kicked out in the cold again, now he'd found his way back into the warm glow of family and friends. He took a sip and made a small noise of surprise. "You know how I take my tea!"

Snape smiled, as smug as Harry had ever seen him. "Yes," he said, taking a sip of his own, "I do."

Harry snorted and shot him a teasing look. "He did it to me my first time, as well. I thought he'd gone soft, but I think he just likes to shock people."

Percy laughed, the sound surprising for how very rarely Harry could remember hearing it. "I expect you're right, Harry," he said, taking another sip of the warm brew. "It would be like our Severus to turn a small kindness into another way to mess with people's minds."

Harry was surprised at how comfortably he and Percy slipped into their roles, Harry using the same teasing tone he took when the twins were there to be on his side and Percy following right along, relaxing a millimetre at a time. "What are you doing at the Ministry now, anyway?" Harry asked, curious despite himself to find out what had become of Percy's rather unusual career.

"Still Junior Assistant to the Minister, believe it or not," Percy replied, with a wry little smile that showed Harry just how much he understood of his position, now he'd been stripped of his illusions. "I think that my reconciliation with my family is what saved me, despite any rumours of... less than acceptable social inclinations. I suppose I ought to be grateful that they're all in that Order of theirs, so it gives Scrimgeour a reason to be interested in me."

"Better than a blo-" Harry began, then blushed when Snape shot him a quelling look. "Er, I mean, I'm sure there's a long tradition of using family connections to rise in the Ministry. Look at Malfoy."

"Though much of his erstwhile influence is due to the family's coffers rather than its reputation," said Snape dryly, "Harry is, essentially, correct. While it is preferable to rise on one's own merits, as long as one is rising it is sometimes best not to question the cause."

Percy gave a wry little laugh. "Well, I tried that, but I'm afraid all my rising from now on has to be with both eyes open, so to speak," he said, long arm reaching out to snag a biscuit, one of the sugared lemon kind that Harry had taken such a liking to since the day he first watched Snape eating one. Harry was surprised to find himself admiring Percy's fingers and the neat way he bit into the biscuit, not a single speck of the fine sugar making its way onto his face or robes.

In a way, he supposed it was a bit like watching a cross between Fred and George, and Snape -- all the Weasley looks with Snape's deliberate grace and dignity. Harry wondered if this was more like what Snape wanted, someone he could talk to about intellectual things, who wouldn't roll his eyes and tease about being stuffy, but share in Snape's enthusiasm. He bit back a sigh and hid his worries in his teacup, sipping the tea and savouring this small evidence that Snape had at least noticed something about him aside from his numerous faults, even before the lessons began.

As the silence grew, Harry shifted in his seat, reviewing the various forms of coded flirtation that might be expected of him today. "Erm," he said, biting his lip shyly, "I wanted to thank you for the gift, a-and your advice. It was very kind of you to notice that I prefer the caramels."

Much to Harry's surprise, Percy blushed just a little, tiny spots of colour forming on his cheeks. "I've always noticed your preferences, Harry," he said, and it was Harry's turn to flush.

"Did you pick up any for yourself, or do you prefer the flower creams like Neville?" asked Harry coyly, though he knew the answer he wanted -- it wasn't something Snape had covered much, using the subject at hand rather than a rote set of signals, but Harry was pretty sure he was being obvious.

"I haven't tried the caramels yet," said Percy, sipping his tea almost primly, "but the flower creams were not to my taste."

"Indeed," said Snape, rescuing Harry inadvertently, though Harry wondered at the note of danger in his tone. "Were you hoping that Harry might share his with you?"

Harry's blush deepened at that, but he looked at Percy curiously; it would've been a disaster with the two of them fumbling virgins together, but on the other hand, if Harry hadn't been found out by Snape he'd have been grateful for Percy's interest. Looking up Percy's body once again, under the guise of sipping his tea, Harry thought he'd have considered himself rather lucky, once they'd figured things out.

Percy cleared his throat and replied carefully, "I might have enjoyed sharing them, but I wouldn't intrude on Harry's enjoyment." He seemed about to say something else, but instead he snagged another biscuit, this one a delicate lace made of almonds and caramel with dark chocolate covering one side.

Harry loved those biscuits.

"I'm afraid circumstances really didn't permit it," said Harry gently, looking at Percy with the warm glow of appreciation naked in his eyes, "but if things were different, I would gladly have shared the discovery of them with you." He leaned in and snagged another of those sweet biscuits, hoping Snape understood what he meant.

"It is always better to share such a delicacy with someone who knows how to properly appreciate it," said Snape, perceptive as always. "Perhaps you would appreciate some introductions?"

This was something else they'd only touched on, though if Harry and Snape didn't make a go of it, Snape had promised something similar to him. When a young man was unable to find a trustworthy mentor, he could often ask the mentor or lover of a friend to introduce him to some candidates, knowing that then it was a matter of compatibility rather than trust. Percy looked surprised, as though it hadn't occurred to him that he might have any connections to call upon in that regard. "Oh! I... I'd really appreciate that," he said, relaxing into his chair just a little.

"I do not have the contacts I once did," said Snape, pausing to drain his tea and set it down in front of him, the lemon slice looking limp and forlorn in the bottom of the cup. "However, I do, as they say, know people who know people. I would be happy to take you and Harry to dinner in Diagon Alley and introduce you, perhaps over the winter holidays?"

"Will the Headmaster let me out?" asked Harry excitedly, thinking how wonderful it would be to see the cheerful Bartholomew and Artemis again, and perhaps even get some extra Christmas shopping in outside of Hogsmeade's limited selection.

Snape cocked his head, and then shrugged. "That remains to be seen," he said, then looked over at Percy expectantly.

"I'd love to, Severus," said Percy, smiling shyly as though he'd just now figured out what it was that Harry saw in Snape, which didn't make Harry any happier despite having just had his own moment of understanding.

Harry finished his tea and set down the cup. "More tea?" he asked brightly, lifting the pot to pour for all three of them, starting with his own cup.

"Please," said Snape, Banishing the lemon from his cup and replacing it with a fresh slice.

"Yes, please," said Percy, draining his own cup and setting it in front of him. Harry poured, for Snape and Percy as well, smiling to himself when Snape took over from there, adding milk and sugar generously to Harry's cup, a splash of milk and a touch of honey to Percy's.

"So," said Snape, the tone of his voice more sensual than before, a signal to Harry that the proper lesson was starting. He turned to Percy and continued, "I have been looking into a gold cauldron, what do you feel is the proper thickness?"

Percy looked surprised for a moment, and then he caught on and smiled back, just a touch of artificialness in the expression. "Well, I do feel the thicker the better, to a certain extent," he replied, hands in his lap and both tea and biscuit temporarily abandoned. "What do you intend to use it for?"

Harry sighed and nibbled his own biscuit, chocolate melting onto his fingers while he watched them. He never quite felt like he understood the potions aspect of these games, which was probably why Snape chose it; it was fascinating to watch Snape and Percy spar, though Harry didn't have much to add. They were talking about the proper altitude for harvesting iceberries by the time Harry finished his treat, and Harry licked the sweet stuff off his fingers distractedly.

He blushed when their conversation stopped, two sets of eyes riveted on his mouth. Percy had to clear his throat three times before he could make words come out, and Harry was bright red by the time he managed it. "I take it you enjoy the almond lace biscuits?" he asked, staring at the remaining smear of chocolate on Harry's thumb.

"Er, yes, sorry," said Harry, snagging a napkin and wiping both his hands and mouth. "They're a bit like one of the sweets you gave me, actually."

Percy blinked and seemed to find that idea highly intriguing. "I can only be happy that anything I gave you could bring you so much pleasure," he said, his voice just a touch rough.

Harry had a feeling they weren't talking about sweets anymore. "It's almost a shame we share the same tastes," said Harry, nodding to the biscuit on Percy's plate, and then to the ring on Percy's left hand. "Sometimes it's best to, er, eat with someone who can introduce you to new flavours."

Snape surprised them both by throwing his head back and laughing, warm and thick and honeyed. "Very astute," said Snape, taking a sip of his own, unsweetened tea. "Though it's good to have some tastes in common, as well," he added, snagging the third and last of the almond biscuits off the plate and taking a bite that seemed to involve a highly unnecessary amount of tongue.

Harry and Percy both fidgeted in their seats at that, and Harry couldn't even bring himself to be upset with Snape for the display. "That's also very true," said Harry, not bothering to try and hide his need; they'd all knew he was bollocks at keeping his thoughts out of his face, so instead he let them show, though he did cross his legs to hide the other evidence of his interest.

"I'm sure you'll help me find someone suitable for my own... culinary explorations," said Percy, though the look on his face was one of longing.

"You'll find just the right person," said Harry, breaking their roles completely as he leaned forward to give Percy's hand a squeeze. "Trust me, Percy, a lot of blokes will be lining up once they figure out you're on the market."

Snape set the biscuit down before the chocolate could melt enough to stain his own fingers, nodding to Percy. "The things that made you less than popular among the rabid hordes of students here at Hogwarts will give you great appeal among those looking for a younger paramour, Percy. It is very rare to find a young man so capable of erudite conversation, yet possessed of the innate sensuality that is your inheritance."

It took Harry a moment to puzzle out the compliment; he shot Snape a speculative look, wondering if Percy knew about Fred and George, and Harry's other lessons or Snape's dalliances with them. Surely not.

Percy smiled shyly and said, "I know my older brothers have always had it, and I always admired them for their ability to show it freely."

"There's nothing wrong with keeping it just for someone you care for," said Harry, glancing over at Snape once again before he could stop himself.

"Just so," said Snape, sitting back in his chair to sip at his tea with a smug little smile on his face.

Percy chuckled and sipped his own tea, and this time the silence that descended was comfortable, companionable. When they spoke again it was of personal things, less artifice and more the simple catching up of old friends. Eventually Harry took his leave, giving Snape his journal to review over the week, guesting-gift still snug in his pocket; he'd ask about the best time for that next week as well. He went up to bed pondering the tantalizing question of how things might have been between him and Percy, or even the twins, without Snape there to guide his steps and steal his heart. He tried very hard not to think about what might have been between Snape and Percy, were Harry not around to keep them apart.

Mostly, he even succeeded.


	19. Turning the Tables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins meet up with Harry on the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year.

As the weeks passed, Harry's body grew increasingly insistent in its reminders that it was used to regular sex, or at least regular fooling around, and Harry began to miss the twins for more than just their company. By the time the first Hogsmeade weekend came around, Harry felt as though he might burst despite his nightly -- and often morning as well -- wanking sessions.

"I'm so glad they let me come," said Harry, from the vicinity of Fred's chest where he was hugging him tightly.

"I hope you haven't come yet," said George, coming up to hug Harry from behind.

"We have plans for you," said Fred with a smirk, and then softer he added, "We missed you, Harry."

Harry hugged tighter and then stepped away, suddenly aware of the curious eyes all around them. "I missed you guys a _lot_ ," he said, grinning and blushing.

They all shared a laugh at Harry's exasperated enthusiasm, then George threw his arm around Harry's shoulders and said, "Let's go get lunch, and then we can sneak you up to our room."

"But first, we learned a little spell just for you," said Fred. He gave a complicated wave of his wand in the general direction of Harry's crotch, but not a word passed his lips to give away the Charm he was casting.

Harry felt a tingling and then, while his half-erection didn't flag a whit, he felt the ever-present need to come recede just a little. "What'd you do?" he asked, shifting nervously.

"Just a little something," said George, steering him into the Three Broomsticks.

"To keep you from coming early," said Fred in a wicked little whisper.

Harry turned bright red and was very glad when Fred took over getting them a table. He was less thrilled when George leaned in to whisper, "Or at all."

It was going to be a very long lunch.

They sat at a table off to one side, overlooked by the Hogwarts crowd as much as Harry ever could be and tucked into a corner barely big enough for the three of them.

"Cosy, isn't it?" asked Fred teasingly, hand landing firmly on Harry's thigh as he settled into his chair.

"Very," said Harry impishly, his own hands sneaking to find a thigh each, then teasing upward to cup two lovely, matching packages. "Though I suppose I'll need my hands to eat."

"Eventually," said George, spreading his legs to give Harry better access.

Rosmerta came bustling over, and they all ordered butterbeer and fish and chips, a light, quick meal. "Put it on our room tab," said Fred, and she waved a hand in acknowledgement, already on her way to another table.

Once she was out of earshot, Fred said, "Looking for a little sauce..."

"For your fish and chips?" finished George, as Fred relaxed back in his chair and spread his legs as well, leaving Harry with two handfuls of swelling cock and warm, jeans-covered bollocks.

Harry chuckled and rubbed his palms over their flies, finding it easier if he did to one what he was doing to the other, rather than trying to think about too many different motions at once. "Just warming up my pudding," said Harry, giving them both a bit of a squeeze.

Their butterbeers showed up and Harry's hands made an appearance above the table, first sliding to adjust his own fully-realized erection and then coming casually out as though they hadn't just been molesting the twins. "It's good to see you looking healthy," said Rosmerta with a smile and a wink. "Bit of colour in your cheeks."

"Thank you," said Harry, feeling suddenly shy. "It's weird, being seventeen now, but I think I'm ready for it."

She grinned and winked, obviously happy with this response, and turned away in a swirl of skirts. Harry supposed that, were he inclined that way, he might have admired her retreating form, but he'd finally accepted that his tastes ran more to the narrow shape of male hips than her full, curvy bottom. "I'm really quite gay," he said conversationally, taking a swig from his mug and enjoying the warmth that settled in his stomach.

Fred and George both laughed as they were meant to, and Fred's warm hand settled briefly over Harry's greedy cock, which was shamelessly grateful for the attention. "I'm pretty sure we knew that," said George, ruffling Harry's hair.

"Quite a dirty mind on you, as well," said Fred, giving Harry's cock a little squeeze before letting it go.

"I learned from the best," said Harry with a wink, shifting in his seat. Their food arrived before they could say any more, and they contented themselves with eating quickly and keeping the teasing to a minimum in favour of getting done and upstairs all the faster.

George swallowed the last of his butterbeer and said conversationally, "Snape's given us permission to keep you overnight."

"So long as we escort you back after breakfast," added Fred, eating his last chip with glee.

"And give him a full report," said George with a leer.

Harry wolfed his last few bites of food and gulped the last of his butterbeer. "Let's go get started, then," he said with a grin, pulling his shirt down enough to cover the front of his trousers and hide the state of his prick. "We wouldn't want your report to bore him."

"Yes," said George, standing.

Fred tossed a few coins on the table for a tip and grinned predatorily. "Let's."

They made their way through the crowds, greeting people here and there and begging off any invitations with the excuse that they had a special order trick hat to fit Harry with upstairs, which made Harry wonder just what they did have planned for him until they were on the stairs and out of sight of the crowd. "Am I going to end up wearing a giant lion on my head?" asked Harry, thinking of Luna's Quidditch fashions.

"Who said the hat," said Fred, giving Harry a grope before going to unlock the door.

"Fits on your head?" said George, teasing a finger up the seam of Harry's jeans, then propelling him into the small room with a swat on the arse.

Harry laughed. "That won't be much help when they all ask me what I bought," he said, flinging himself into Fred's arms for a kiss while George closed and locked the door. Harry felt the whisper of magic as George cast privacy spells and wards to keep them safe.

"We'll think of something," said George, moulding himself to Harry's back and joining in the kiss, making it something messier and more sensual between the three of them.

It ran on long enough for Harry's knees and will both to crumple, until he was being held up by their bodies and kissed into that perfect oblivion that he'd missed so very much. Their hands were moving, but Harry didn't pay them any mind, knowing they wouldn't do anything he didn't want and probably a lot of things he did, if only he let them.

He had no intention, today, of stopping them.

He moaned when George's cock slipped into the cleft of his newly-bared arse, arms going up to twine around George's neck so that Fred could slough off his own clothing like a second skin, pressing the his nakedness to Harry's front. "We want something special from you today, Harry," George whispered, kissing down the back of Harry's neck.

"Anything," promised Harry recklessly, trusting them not to go beyond the few limits he'd given them.

"We want you to top one of us," said Fred, pressing a sweet kiss to Harry's mouth and then sliding down to his knees in front of Harry, mouth open and wanting.

Harry closed his eyes and shivered, but he knew this was inevitable, that he learn to control himself enough to control others. He'd known for a while now that Snape, too, craved the chance to submit to his lover, and if Harry couldn't give that to him, then... Well, it wasn't something Harry had wanted to think about, sharing his lover or even losing Snape over his own inadequacies. He pulled himself together breath by breath and opened his eyes, nodding. "You, I take it?" he asked, voice too shaky for the flippancy he was going for.

"I'll be helping you," said George, reaching past Harry to stroke Fred's hair in a gesture so intimate it made Harry's breath catch, so familiar it warmed something in his chest.

"I'll do my best," Harry promised, echoing George's gesture with one of his own, trailing gentle fingers down Fred's cheek. "You're going to suck me, aren't you, pet?" he said, the words coming more naturally with the sure knowledge of how much it turned him on to be told such things.

Fred nodded and took Harry's prick in with a slow, skilful glide of lips and tongue. Harry felt his need rise, and then the spell on him tightened just a little, pushing away orgasm without relieving the pressure in any way. Harry whimpered and forced himself to concentrate, twining his fingers with George's in Fred's hair and gently guiding himself deeper into Fred's throat just the way he enjoyed it, when he was on his knees.

"You love that, don't you?" said George, and for a moment Harry wasn't sure which of them he was talking to, if not both. "You love having our Harry's sweet prick fucking your greedy face."

That answered that question, and Fred moaned and swallowed when he could, then sucked just a little harder, ever the tease even when he was submitting. "I love seeing you like this, on your knees in front of me," said Harry, pushing his hips forward to force Fred to meet his pace, taking away the freedom to tease.

George let out a hum of approval, the one hand helping to guide Fred while the other rubbed Harry's stomach soothingly, supporting and grounding with that one simple gesture. "You're both good boys," said George, asserting his own position in today's game with the simple words. "Should I let you have his come, pet? Would you like that for your sweet?"

Fred hummed and nodded, at least until the sound was cut off by Harry's prick burying itself deep into his throat. George chuckled when Harry moaned as well at his first real taste of topping.

"How long will I top him?" asked Harry, not wanting this to end so soon despite the need singing through his veins, urging him to find some way around the wicked charm and come down Fred's welcoming throat.

George laughed wickedly, breath ghosting hotly over Harry's ear. "As long as you can hold up, I suppose," said George, rocking his hips forward so his cock painted wet patterns against Harry's lower back, inches higher than where Harry wanted that particular part of George's anatomy.

"It'd be... cheating, to fuck him, wouldn't it?" said Harry breathlessly, just wanting to voice it once so they'd all share the image of it, Harry burying his wet cock in Fred's welcoming arse with the spell holding back his release so he couldn't embarrass himself.

George and Fred moaned in unison this time, and George said softly, "As much as we'd love that, yeah, it would be."

"Then I want to come like this, so I'm less tempted," said Harry, cheeks heating as they always did around the twins sooner or later. "Then I can spank him and lick him and still not fuck him."

"I think he likes that," said George, looking down to where Fred's cock was hard and ready between his thighs, showcased by the long line of his body and bouncing in rhythm with the bob of his head on Harry's prick. "I'll fuck him for you, when the time comes," he added, and both Harry and Fred moaned in unison, Harry's tapering into a gasp while Fred's ended on the tip of Harry's cock.

George's fingers stroked over Fred's cheek, leaving the control to Harry as they wandered forward until they were splayed around the base of Harry's cock. Harry felt a rush of heat and his orgasm was suddenly a hundred times closer, not even enough time to stammer out a warning before he was spilling himself into Fred's mouth, hips bucking of their own accord as he painted Fred's tongue with his seed.

Fred pulled away with an impish grin, licking his lips to get the last drops of come. "You're always delicious, but there's something special about being on my knees for you, my master."

Harry whimpered.

"Now you get to be the one giving the spanking," George whispered in Harry's ear, his voice a low tease that kept Harry's cock at full mast despite his release.

Harry grinned at the flash of apprehension that flickered through Fred's eyes, as though knowing he wasn't the only nervous one made it easier to relax. "Don't worry," said Harry wickedly, stroking his thumb over Fred's wet mouth, "I'll be gentle since it's our first time."

George laughed and stepped away, leaving Harry to sway for a moment as he found his balance without that extra support. "Come on, it'll be easiest on the bed," said George, sitting on the low mattress and patting the spot next to him. "I'll make sure his aim is good, pet."

Fred chuckled. "As long as my bollocks are safe, I'm sure to enjoy it," he said, and Harry snickered; they'd accidentally smacked Harry's balls just once during a spanking, and Harry had never let them live it down.

"I promise, unless a loud noise startles me unduly," he teased, bending over to kiss Fred and not so incidentally give George a lovely view of what he couldn't have. "Now be a good boy and I might blow you while George fucks you."

It was Fred's turn to whimper at that. Harry sat and patted his lap, and Fred crawled over with his eyes full of nothing more than lust and affection now, positioning himself over Harry's small lap a little awkwardly, though they settled in well enough. "Twenty, do you think?" Harry asked George; he had no idea how much either of them really got into the whole bottoming thing, having been on the other side exclusively before now.

"Oh, at least," said George, hand running up and down Harry's spine in a motion that was half soothing and half caress. "Let's see how red he is after twenty."

"Count them," said Harry, having done so himself far too often not to want to hear it done for him, now that the shoe was on the other foot. "Ready?"

Fred gave a little wriggle and said, "Oh, yes, master."

"Good," said Harry. George gave Fred's hair an encouraging pat, close enough to Harry that Fred could have sucked him during the spanking, an image which Harry filed away for future reference. Harry brought his hand down and the sound it made was somewhat disappointing, and he made a frustrated noise that nearly drowned out Fred's count.

"Like this," said George, showing Harry how to hold his hand, giving a little swing. "You know where you like to be smacked," he added with a wicked wink.

Harry blushed and nodded, then tried again, this time with a much more satisfying result.

"Oh, two!" said Fred, sounding breathlessly surprised at the sharp smack.

Harry found this encouraging, and he did it again on the other side, feeling both his hand and the flesh below it warm briefly as they came in contact.

Fred gave the count, voice more normal now that he knew what to expect, and George laughed. "By George, I think he's got it," he teased.

Harry and Fred laughed as well, though the sound was cut off when Harry delivered another, harder spanking to the pink cheek he'd started on. They went on like that, Harry working up to harder smacks and George trying to make them both giggle, Fred's cock hard against Harry's thigh and Harry's prick rubbed tantalizingly whenever Fred writhed. Harry grew more and more certain that he liked being in charge, though not as much as he liked being in Fred's position.

They hit twenty and Harry went for ten more, until his arm was tired, his hand sore, and Fred's arse was a lovely pink shading to a hectic red right at the sweet spot on each cheek, where Harry had tried to hit the most. "Good job, love," said George, kissing Harry sweetly and rubbing his cock over Fred's mouth not-so-accidentally.

Harry moaned into the kiss, and when they broke apart he said shyly, "I want to lick Fred, but I think I need to come again first."

It was the twins' turn to moan, and George grinned. "How about if Fred licks you first, while I suck you?"

Harry rather thought his brain might explode, though they'd done it many times before, tonight it seemed far naughtier with Fred at their mercy. "That sounds brilliant," said Harry, giving Fred's arse a last, light swat. "Get up, you're going to lick my arse until I come."

George chuckled wickedly and said, "Wouldn't that be lovely, seeing if you could come just from his tongue up your arse, hmm?"

Harry moaned and nodded, then kissed George quickly and asked, "Would it be giving up too early if we licked each other, you know, like a rimming sixty-nine?"

George kissed him hard. "No, love, I want to see that very much. You'll have to be on the bottom, though, so I can fuck Fred's arse while you suck his cock later, after you've come yourself out."

The familiar melting feeling went through Harry as Fred slid off his lap, and George helped him lay down so there was plenty of room for everything they had planned. "Remember, Harry," said George, just as Fred's reddened arse was positioned where Harry could get to it, "You're still in charge of him, so if he slacks, you can always punish him."

Fred folded Harry practically in half, tucking Harry's knees under his arms so his hands could hold Harry's arse open wide, his own arse was shoved into Harry's face for easy accessibility. Harry had no problem with this, and he brought his hands up to spread Fred open that last little bit, fingers squeezing the sore flesh even as his tongue soothed, painting teasing patterns up and down the crease before spiralling in toward the centre and his real goal.

Fred kissed Harry's opening like a greeting, then dove straight in, licking at Harry's entrance like he was kissing a lover, every motion designed to bring Harry's nerves alive as Fred's tongue mapped every square centimetre before slipping inside, only to do it again and again, going deeper each time. Harry had just enough of his own mind left that didn't let this distract him, instead working a similar magic on Fred's arse, fingers pulling him wide, tugging at the edges of the wrinkled opening so Harry could see the pinkness inside just a little, then lapping at what he could see before diving deeper.

Harry lost himself in a way he never could in this position normally; instead of having to worry about his breathing, opening his throat or keeping up with a partner's thrusts, he just had to lick and lick at all the places his tongue could reach until he got tired, and then keep licking because his own bottom was sending him the message that it was very happy and he needed not to allow that to stop.

"God, you two are so fucking sexy like that," said George, and Harry moaned; he'd nearly forgotten they weren't alone, forgotten everything but the feel of Fred over and in and around him.

Fred's teeth scraped over Harry's sensitive entrance, and that last tiny shock was enough after everything else to send Harry over the edge with a cry, head falling back against the bed as he spilled over his own stomach without any but the most teasing accidental touches to his cock. Fred pulled away and Harry could hear the smugness in his voice and just imagine how his grin must look, terribly satisfied to have once again found a new way to make Harry come undone. "Our Harry's got the tastiest cherry," he said, making Harry writhe, with embarrassment this time, "and we get to taste it again and again, unlike yours or mine, as we disposed of them ages ago."

"He's like a sundae all topped with cream and the perfect cherry," George agreed, sitting on the bed and pressing a wet, tongue-probing kiss to the body part in question. "Are you ready to be fucked, dear brother?"

"Only by you, dear brother," said Fred, giving his arse a little wriggle, "but let's let our little helper get more comfortable." He switched his arms around so they were on the outside of Harry's hips and thighs, and Harry uncurled and lay flat with a little groan.

"I love it while you're doing it," said Harry, giving Fred's hole another little kiss for good measure, "but I always feel empty and sort of squelchy after."

"If you think that's squelchy," said George, slicking his cock and getting into position above Harry and behind Fred.

"Then just wait until you've been filled with Severus' come," said Fred, the last word turning to a long moan as George slid inside.

"I can't wait," said Harry dryly, though it was true that he'd have shoved them both off and spread like a whore if Severus were there, willing and able and _allowed_ to finally have him. Instead he shifted enough so that it was Fred's cock in his face now, capturing the head between his lips and letting motion of their fucking push the shaft into his mouth in short, sharp thrusts.

Harry let go of the last of his control and let himself enjoy the surrender, let himself become nothing more than a vessel for both of their pleasure, Fred's directly and George's through him, each thrust into Harry's mouth not at Fred's urging but his twin's. Time always seemed to stop when Harry was like this, stretching on in an endless line while he was on pause, nothing but pleasure given and received simply by giving, being allowed to offer himself up in this way. It was a year, or a heartbeat, or some time in between later when George said, "Yes," and Fred filled Harry's mouth with his thick come, which Harry drank greedily.

They parted ways and moved off of him, and Harry struggled to breathe air again instead of time or need, to blink himself into awareness on his own, taking himself back just as deliberately as he'd given himself away. "Brilliant," he heard himself say, and a grin found its way to his face as well.

"You really are learning," said George with a chuckle, planting a kiss on Harry's mouth while Fred got up and performed one last service by getting a warm flannel from the loo to wash them all up.

Harry managed to find his limbs enough to get under the covers and cuddle with them both, yawning fit to crack his skull as the tiredness hit him. "I'm learning, but I'll miss the lessons something terrible when they're over, so don't let me learn too fast," he said softly, getting a chuckle from whoever's chest he was pillowed on.

Fred's voice said, "Not too fast, promise," from behind him, so this must be George he'd snuggled up to, which seemed unfair until Fred spooned up close and Harry felt the twins' hands entwine on his hip. That seemed perfectly right, and Harry let the warmth of it carry him to sleep knowing that they'd be here when he woke, and would likely have another lesson in store for him.


	20. The Closing of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry spends his holidays at Hogwarts.

Harry began to live for the little snippets of his summer life that slipped in to relieve the long trek toward winter. Despite his continual sexual frustration, he started to fall back into being the boy he'd been before the summer, worrying more about Voldemort and learning how to defeat him than he did about Snape or even Fred and George. Harry became slowly buried under a mountain of NEWT preparations, while Snape began to treat him more and more like any other errant student as time passed. Each etiquette lesson was a small island of adulthood in his student life, while the Occlumency lessons hit another frustrating impasse as Harry's progress ground to a halt. Potions lessons were much like they had always been, with slightly less points taken than in previous years and slightly more attention paid as well, though it was impossible to tell which preceded the other.

Eventually the seasons turned and Harry found himself looking at another Christmas stuck at Hogwarts, one he could look forward to because it would bring time with Snape as something other than student and teacher. He'd managed to find gifts for everyone in his life, with help from Fred and George, and unexpectedly from Percy for the twins' presents. Now he was once again hugging Ron and Hermione good-bye and sending them off to take the train back home, torn between excitement and worry.

Harry turned back toward Gryffindor tower, the students swirling around him as they, too, said their farewells and headed for the carriages, but somehow his feet took him downward instead of up. Harry found Snape sitting in his office, surrounded by papers, and he knocked tentatively on the door frame. "Um, S- Professor?" he asked, when Snape didn't bother to look up.

"You might as well come in," said Snape irritably, "Experience has shown you'll only hover until you do."

Harry flushed and grinned wryly, slouching into the room and taking the only available seat, a highly uncomfortable chair that he'd always thought Snape chose specifically to torment any student foolish enough to brave his office for any length of time. "I was wondering if you had any plans over the hols. For us, I mean," he asked, though of course now he'd thought of it he was just as curious about any plans Snape had that didn't involve him.

"Ah," said Snape, shuffling through the papers and drawing out a small leather-bound planner. He opened it and looked through Pages that seemed nothing but a jumble of symbols to Harry, which Harry supposed was the point. Snape had always been fanatic about his privacy, to Harry's chagrin. "I believe our dinner with Percy is on the 27th, and I had intended to give you the rest of the time off from your lessons."

"Oh," said Harry, trying not to sound disappointed, as two weeks without Occlumency did sound rather brilliant in its way. "What about, I mean... Could we perhaps have tea together on Christmas? I, er, got you a gift." Which didn't seem as obviously good an idea as it had up until now; somehow he'd been expecting that the cold, irritable Snape who scolded him in the corridors would melt away over the break, leaving behind the warmer man Harry had grown so very fond of over the summer.

Snape raised one eyebrow, pausing just long enough that Harry's heart fell and he was just opening his mouth to apologise and take his leave. Snape interrupted him mid-breath, saying, "I expect that could be arranged, though doubtlessly only with Austereus' supervision. I doubt that the Headmaster will allow any opportunity for further... indiscretions."

Harry suppressed the urge to giggle madly, swallowing down the humour and nodding instead. "I understand, sir, thank you," he said instead, Snape's training coming in handy in unexpected ways. "I will look forward to spending such an auspicious time in the company of yourself and your ancestor."

Snape snorted. "Yes, yes," he said, waving his hand as he etched in a few symbols and put the book away. "Now, if that is all?"

Harry let out the grin he'd been holding inside and stood, his backside expressing gratitude for the brevity of the visit, even if it left him at loose ends. "Thank you, sir, it is. Have a happy Christmas."

Harry was unsurprised when a doubtful grunt was all the response he got, and he left before Snape could think of some odious chore or extra homework to assign him during these short weeks of leisure.

* * *

Though a part of Harry was tempted to wear the green and gold hair ribbons from his Christmas cracker, he resisted, instead putting on a pleasantly form-fitting set of wizarding robes. He'd received another note with his porridge this morning requesting formal attire, and making offhand mention of the exchange of gifts in such a way as to give Snape deniability, should Harry dare to suggest that he was being comforted. Harry had taken comfort in it anyway, shooting Snape an impish grin that was met only with a raised eyebrow and a brief nod.

His gift for Snape had been wrapped in the store, his hair was as neat as it ever got, and his robes were straightened to within an inch of their lives. Harry paused to straighten them again anyway, then gave in and walked the last few feet down the corridor, having learned his lesson about unnecessary pacing. He knocked on Snape's office door precisely at five o'clock.

"I see I have finally managed to train some manners into you," said Snape, opening the door and letting his eyes roam over Harry's body and the beribboned box clutched tightly in Harry's hands.

"Er, yes, sir," said Harry, shifting nervously. He held out the package and said brightly, "Happy Christmas!"

Snape took it with a snort and stepped back. "Yes, yes, platitudes aside you'd best come in. Austereus will be ecstatic to have someone with whom to share his absurd cheer."

Harry flushed and stepped inside, stomach feeling leaden. This Snape was treating him nearly as coldly as everyone else, with only a tiny glimmer of the warmth that Harry had come to rely on to give him something to look forward to, when all was said and done. "Um, thank you," he said, moving on into Snape's living quarters.

"Happy Christmas, my boy," said Austereus cheerfully. He'd managed to find some pine boughs and candles with which to decorate his normally bare desk, and he had a cup of eggnog that Harry suspected was of the alcoholic sort, if the rosiness of his cheeks was anything to go by.

"Thank you, sir, a Happy Christmas to you, too," said Harry, glancing around the room to see that the portrait held the only trace of holiday spirit in the room, which was otherwise just the same as always.

"It'd be better if he wasn't such an old poop," said Austereus, gesturing toward Snape.

Harry flushed and looked at Snape properly for the first time, taking in the grey trousers that he remembered so vividly from their second tea together, and a white shirt very similar to the one hiding in the bottom of Harry's trunk that still carried just a tiny bit of Snape's scent. Harry's smile grew more genuine at the small evidence that it wasn't all in his imagination, and that his feelings were, if not returned in kind, at least not dismissed out of hand. "He's just reserved," said Harry fondly, watching as Snape shot the portrait a glare and brought both Harry's present and another, smaller package over to the table by the fire.

"A proper Christmas tea will arrive any minute now," said Snape coolly, taking his usual seat. 

"I'm sure you ordered the good stuff," said Harry, thinking to all the other teas they'd had together. Snape really did have a gift for figuring out people's tastes and catering to them, and Harry was fortunate to be no exception. Though, come to think of it, Snape used the same talent in reverse when verbally flaying his less than perfect students, and Harry had been no exception there, either.

Snape gave Harry a look that suggested Harry had forgotten to bring his good brain for the day. "Indeed, that is precisely what I said to the house elves," he retorted. He began to reach for the present Harry had brought him, one long finger curling into a bit of ribbon.

"Stop," said Harry; something had snapped in him, watching this indifferent man try to open the gift he'd so lovingly chosen for Severus. "I mean, I would prefer to save the gifts until after we've eaten, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, but merely sent both packages to the mantle with a wave of his wand. "As you wish," he said, leaning back in his chair with fingers interlaced over his stomach, looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry swallowed and sat back as well, feeling suddenly at a loss. He fidgeted with the buttons on his robes, and then sighed and asked, "How are your classes going this term, Professor?"

Snape looked surprised, and then relaxed just a little, warmth trickling into his voice as he said, "You may continue to call me Severus, Harry."

Harry wriggled and nodded. "Yes, Severus," he said awkwardly, almost as though he hadn't spent a whole summer getting used to it.

Snape smirked. "Classes are going as usual, though one of my pupils has found the motivation to study for his NEWT at a level I did not previously think him capable, which is always rewarding," he said.

Harry laughed. "All right, what do you think we ought to talk about, then?" he asked, trying to find the playfulness that had existed between them during those few idyllic summer months.

Snape let the smirk soften into something more like a smile, nodding to acknowledge Harry's point. "What are your plans for next summer, once you've left school?" he asked, tilting his head just a bit as though the answer were of special interest, which Harry supposed -- hoped -- it might be.

The problem was, Harry had no idea. "I don't have any, I'm afraid," he said with a pathetic little shrug. "I'm not allowed contact with much of anyone outside school. I don't even know if Voldemort will be gone by then."

Snape's face softened further, and Harry relaxed with him, not realising until just that moment how tense he'd been, thinking he'd lost his Christmas with Severus. "Well," said Snape thoughtfully, "I expect you'll manage to take care of Voldemort when the time comes. Still, someone should have realised before now that we were setting your feet on a dead-end path, and thought beyond it to your future."

Harry shrugged again, glad when the tea appeared to give them something to do with their hands now that the topic had become strangely painful. "You have now, and to be honest I'd considered it before, there just isn't much to be done."

"I suppose there isn't, at that," said Snape, handing Harry a cup of tea. His tone seemed to imply otherwise, but Harry had been doing such a crap job up until now of interpreting Snape's thoughts that he decided to take the statement at face value and change the subject.

"Do you think the twins would let me live with them? If you don't want me, I mean," said Harry, wishing he could take the words back as soon as he saw the thundercloud forming on Snape's brow.

"Why not strike out on your own, my boy?" said Austereus in a jolly tone.

Harry started; he'd completely forgotten the portrait was still watching them. "I don't think that would be a good idea," he said to the painting politely. "I haven't any idea of how to live on my own as a wizard."

"Ah, well, I'm sure you'll find someone appropriate to take a hand in your education," said Austereus stuffily, giving Snape a distinctly suspicious look, which Harry might have protested if he didn't have high hopes that Snape would do exactly the sorts of things to him that Austereus would most disapprove of.

"I am sure it will be worked out, one way or another," said Snape, his voice sharp but heatedly so, not the cold bite of earlier.

Harry couldn't help but feel smug about that.

* * *

The rest of the meal was passed in idle conversation about nothing in particular, both of them steering away whenever things became too tense, which Harry appreciated to no end. By the time the dishes were Banished and only their teacups and gifts remained, Severus was nearly smiling, Harry was almost happy, and Austereus was snoring softly in his frame.

"Now may I see what mysterious object you've acquired for me?" asked Snape, floating the packages from mantle to table.

Harry grinned and gestured for Severus to proceed. Snape's long fingers untangled the curled ribbons and undid the knot, drawing the moment out rather than simply slipping the ribbon off of the elaborately wrapped package. Harry began to fidget in his chair, a dozen worries cascading through his mind about whether Snape would like it, want it, or even already have it.

The paper finally fell away to reveal an image Harry had memorised by now, a woodcut that cycled through two men first touching fingers, and then moving in for a passionate kiss before stepping back and letting their hands fall away. There was a blank space for a book title, but this was just a proof of the artwork in its heavy wooden frame, and the letters hadn't yet been blocked in. Snape looked up at Harry, then down at the print and back up again. "This cannot have been easy to acquire," he said, long fingers dipping into the preservation spell that shielded the image from harm.

"It wasn't so bad as all that," said Harry; in truth he'd come across it quite by accident in the back of Flourish and Blotts, and they'd been all too happy to sell it to him. "I didn't know if you had one, or collected art that's not in a book, or anything."

"Most of the books from this edition were destroyed," said Snape, setting the painting aside. "Thank you, Harry, this will make an excellent and very appropriate addition to my collection."

Harry grinned and neglected to mention the other gift he'd found in that back room, this one a rather more explicit image that Harry was saving for Snape's birthday. "So, my turn?" he asked, looking at the box still waiting in its satiny green paper.

"Yes, yes," said Snape, something like a laugh hiding in his voice as he handed the small box to Harry.

Harry immediately unwrapped it, laughing delightedly once he figured out what it was. "It's for my watch, right?" he asked, digging the thing out of his pocket and fastening the chain to it. "Show me how it goes?"

"Your robe should have small pockets for it in front, just run the watch fob over the cloth until one appears," said Snape, smiling.

Harry caressed the little golden snake lightly once and then managed to slip it into a pocket on one side of his waist; another slightly larger one appeared opposite it, and Harry deposited the watch there with a satisfied little smile. "I'm very dashing now, I expect," he said with a grin, toying with the chain.

"You are, and you are also prepared to speak Parseltongue whenever the occasion should arise," said Snape, nodding to the snake charm now hidden in its cloth burrow. "Since you seem to require a focus."

Harry grinned and pulled the snake back out, admiring the realistic coils and sparkling green eyes. "You're probably ridiculously expensive, aren't you?" he said to it. A flash of heat went across Snape's eyes and Harry felt an answering tug in his own groin, so he continued just to test his theory, "I think he likes the sound of that, little snake."

Snape shifted and crossed his legs, and Harry tucked the charm away smugly. "That's a brilliant idea, Severus, I'll have to be sure I always have it on me just in case."

"Just in case," said Snape, downing the last swig of his cold tea.

He looked like he might have said something more, but Austereus chose that moment to snort himself awake, looking from Snape to Harry blearily. "If you've got a watch," he said after a long moment, "then you know it's past time." He snorted and shifted, and then dropped back to sleep.

Harry laughed and Snape along with him. "Sadly, I expect he's right," said Harry, standing. He held his hand out to Snape, not knowing what to expect, really, but feeling as though there ought to be something more at the end of such a lovely evening.

Snape took Harry's hand and stood, looking down at him speculatively. "Happy Christmas, Harry," he said softly, one long finger caressing Harry's palm sensuously before pulling away.

Harry smiled a little wanly, trying to take heart from the warmth he'd coaxed into Snape's voice, and the heat he'd seen in Snape's eyes there at the end. "Happy Christmas, Severus. You'll owl me about dinner on the 27th?"

Snape smiled and nodded, looking pleased that Harry hadn't pushed the issue. "I'll owl you. Good evening," he said, taking a step back before bowing slightly and gesturing toward the door in a manner he'd shown Harry before, a polite refusal of further companionship for the night.

Harry sighed; no Christmas kiss for him, it seemed. "Good evening," was all he said, and he took his leave, wishing more than usual that there was someone waiting back in his cold and lonely bed, to soothe his yearning heart.

* * *

Harry was growing used to his formal robes by now, and he had his watch tucked in and everything co-ordinated from boots on up, though Snape had warned him against wearing a token out in public. So far they had miraculously managed to keep Harry's orientation out of the press, and everyone involved was happy to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Harry's polish lasted only as long as it took to go through the Floo; he stumbled out the other end looking his usual dishevelled self, though Snape was kind enough to help set him to rights with a few quick spells and some patting. "Good thing I wore a dark colour," said Harry, looking down at his soot-smudged boots with chagrin.

Snape smirked. "I promise to tell him that your hair was neat when we left," he said, which was only mostly untrue.

Harry had managed to get it less messy, if not as neat as Snape's, which was somewhat clean and combed to frame his face in a way that Harry had grown to think of as attractive. He wasn't sure if that was maturity or emotional bias, but either way he was enjoying the view as they made their way to the small private room where Percy was waiting. "I trust you weren't waiting long?" asked Snape, taking one of five remaining seats at the round table and leaving a space for Harry between himself and Percy.

"Who's coming besides us?" asked Harry dubiously, biting his lip when he realised he was being rude. "Er, sorry."

Percy smiled and relaxed, and Harry wasn't sure if he ought to be glad that his fumbling reassured Percy, or annoyed at the way everyone seemed to count on him to bollix things up these days, one way or another. "I've only just arrived," said Percy, toying with his water glass. "I believe both Bartholomew and Artemis are going to attempt to join us, with a, a friend. A potential mentor, for me, I mean."

"It may be difficult for them both to get away from the kitchen," explained Snape to Harry, spreading his napkin over his lap.

Harry did the same, and both of their glasses filled with cool, clear water. "Do you know who this friend is, Severus?" asked Harry a bit nervously; though he'd grown used to the two genial chefs and his other friends knowing about him, he wasn't sure how he felt about some stranger. Even if the whole point of meeting here was to introduce Percy into the wider society of gay wizards, thus leaving Snape for Harry, or so he hoped.

"They hadn't informed me they were inviting anyone, no," said Snape with a shrug. "You are wearing no token, and placed between your known acquaintances, so you should have no problem with claiming ignorance and heterosexuality both, if you like."

Harry flushed and shrugged. "We'll see," he said, leaving the rest unspoken as it seemed impolite to him to cast doubts on the character of a man he'd never even met.

Snape snorted as if he'd read Harry's mind, but took a sip of his water rather than commenting further. Percy shifted in his seat and then said shyly, "I really do appreciate this, you know. That you both came, I mean."

"You are quite welcome, it is the least I could do, since I cannot provide for your education myself for any number of reasons," said Snape, real concern underlying the politeness of his words.

"I just like you," said Harry with a little grin, though it hadn't been true before Percy had given them both a chance to see what he was like when he wasn't being such a prat.

Percy blushed charmingly, and that was the moment when the doors opened and Artemis came bustling in, smiling and chatting with a striking older man whose elegant clothing made even Percy seem a bit scruffy around the edges. "Good, good, you're all here!" said Artemis cheerfully, pulling out the seat next to Percy. "This is Charles Crawford, an old friend of ours. Severus, you might have met him at one of the clubs, perhaps?"

Snape shook his head. "My time in the clubs was tragically brief," he said, nodding to the man. "It is good to make your acquaintance now, I am Severus Snape. This is my student, Harry Potter, and my former student and current friend, Percy Weasley."

"Mr. Weasley, so good to meet you. Artemis has been telling me how kind you were to help them get their Ministry license paperwork in before the end of the year," said Crawford, much to Harry's pleased surprise. Apparently, he knew which of them he was supposed to be charming and wasn't going to waste his flattery on the supposedly straight Boy Who Lived when he had a perfectly willing Weasley to woo.

Percy's cheeks grew a bit pinker and he shook Crawford's hand gingerly. "Percy, please, we're among friends here," he said, letting his gaze linger over Crawford's admittedly fascinating face. The man wasn't handsome precisely, but his brown eyes were bright with intelligence, his salt-and-pepper hair immaculately groomed, and though his cheeks were pocked with the scars of some long-ago illness it only served to highlight the sharpness of his features.

Harry swallowed and took a sip of water, then looked over at Snape. Somehow, Snape's nose had gone from enormous to striking, his eyes from beady to piercing, his mouth from thin to mobile and seductively kissable, and the whole package from ugly to intriguing. Harry smiled into his water and turned back just in time to watch Percy retrieve his hand with apparent reluctance.

"It's good to meet you as well, Mr. Potter, Professor Snape. Your reputations precede you, as you can imagine," he said smoothly, nodding from one to the other.

"Thank you," said Snape, pausing just long enough to make Harry wonder before adding, "you may of course call me Severus, as there is no need for formality among friends."

"And you can call me Harry," he piped up, completely dreading the thought of a whole meal of hearing his last name bandied about the table. "What do you do for a living, Mr. Crawford?"

"Oh, you must all call me Charles," said Crawford, though it seemed a bit false, as though he resented sharing that intimacy with someone with whom he wouldn't sharing anything more. "I create artefacts for use in Astronomy and Arithmancy. Crawford's Creations, you may have seen them, Hogwarts orders quite regularly." he added, looking smug, as though he couldn't imagine a more impressive line of work.

"How do you get into that sort of thing?" asked Harry curiously. He'd never really understood what happened when witches and wizards grew up and left Hogwarts, how they made that transition from child to adult with things like jobs, skills and homes, though he appeared to be muddling through relationships all right.

There was a flash of annoyance in Crawford's eyes, but he suppressed it, presumably to impress Percy. "In my case, I was apprenticed through family connections," he said dismissively, turning back to Percy. "How are things going for you at the Ministry? I heard it was rocky for a bit there, but you seem to have come out on top if the rumours are correct."

Percy began filling Crawford in on an expurgated version of his Ministry career, and Harry's attention wandered. "Will we be trading the two of you all night, or will I get to see you both in one place?" he asked Artemis teasingly, taking a sip of his water.

Artemis grinned and shrugged. "It might be one, it might be the other," he said philosophically.

Bartholomew slipped into the room, looking harried. "Sorry, we're training a new chef so the two of us can have more time together outside of the kitchen, and tonight is her first night on her own."

"I'm sure Eos will be fine," said Artemis, patting Bartholomew on the arm. He turned to the group, and Percy trailed off to pay attention to their host. "I can see you two are already getting along, which is good for everyone. If you'll kindly all say your names over your plates, dinner can begin."

Everyone did, some more self-consciously than others, and then a drink and an appetizer appeared at each place. Harry's glass held some sort of layered, fizzy concoction, bright colours alternating with creamy white and bubbles rising all the way through the thing effortlessly, while his plate held three of the very same toast triangles he'd had the first time he came here. "Brilliant," he said with a grin, pausing with his hand poised over his plate to make sure he wasn't making a faux pas.

Everyone was digging in, however, and Harry popped one into his mouth with an enthusiastic grin. The flavours exploded on his tongue and he savoured them all, making an ecstatic face as he swallowed the delicacy. When he opened his eyes he found everyone looking at him, and his cheeks flushed as he took a sip of water, not wanting to spoil either treat by mixing them. "These are my favourites of yours, thank you for remembering," he said to the two chefs, not sure who had arranged what for tonight.

"You're quite welcome," said Artemis cheerfully, toasting them all with his own drink, a wine that seemed like an average red something until Harry noticed that it seemed to swirl in the glass independent of Artemis' motions.

Harry toasted back with his own drink, which made a little vortex in the centre when he sucked on the straw, delivering him not just the bottom flavour but a whole mouthful of things one after another. They were all fruity and sweet, with the milk in between just enough to splash away the previous before coating his tongue with the next, and Harry was hard-pressed not to giggle as some of the bubbles tried to go up his nose. When he set the glass down he found Snape and Crawford glaring at one another from across the table, for reasons he couldn't fathom, so instead he turned back to Percy. "What've you got?"

"Crab and cheese dumplings," said Percy, showing Harry the inside of one of the crispy pouches of dough. "And wine, you're the only one of us stuck with fizzy drinks," he said with a wink, taking a sip and then demonstrating his own knowledge by identifying the vintage, type and maker, which Harry promptly forgot.

"You do seem to enjoy your food, Harry," said Crawford, with a glint in his eye that Harry didn't understand, but didn't think he liked much, either.

Harry took another sip and shrugged, trying to think of how to answer the oblique statement. "I didn't get a lot of variety as a kid, so it's always really interesting to eat here," he said, turning to the two chefs. "Artemis and Bartholomew spoil me rotten, because they know I like everything."

Snape coughed, and Harry turned, concerned that he'd choked on something. Instead his eyes were sparkling with mischief, and Harry replayed his last statement in his head. And blushed. "Harry has been slowly educating his palate," said Snape, taking a sip of his wine, a shimmery white that seemed to have glitter in it until Harry realised it was bubbles that floated lazily down from the surface only to pop when they reached the bottom.

Crawford got a sly look and slid his gaze from Snape to Harry and finally Percy, then drawled, "It's always best to learn what one wants at a tender age, so one can experience the pleasures of life while one is still young enough to enjoy them." He popped one of his own savouries into his mouth, and Harry had to resist the urge to scoot closer to Severus, and pull Percy with him.

Aside from that one moment of uncomfortable scrutiny, Crawford chose to lavish his attention and not inconsiderable charm on Percy, much to Harry's relief. Harry spent most of his time talking to the chefs about the food, to Snape about school, and to Percy whenever it seemed he needed rescuing from whatever conversational mire he'd found himself in -- mostly by bumbling in and saying something gauche, not that Percy seemed to mind. By the time pudding arrived, everyone had relaxed and even Percy was comfortable complimenting the chefs, a slight flush to his cheeks from the wine or possibly the attention.

"So," said Crawford, dipping his fork into the cream on top of his lavishly layered sweet, "when will we be seeing you in the clubs, Harry?"

Harry swallowed his own mouthful with a panicked gulp, but he remembered what Snape said and smiled sheepishly. "Never, I hope," he said with all sincerity; after all, if things went well with Snape, then he wouldn't ever have to go to one of the clubs looking for a mentor. "Do you frequent them yourself?"

Crawford gave him a shrewd look and then shrugged nonchalantly. "Occasionally, though I find it far preferable to take an apprentice in these matters periodically. It saves a great deal of fruitless searching, at least until it's time to move on."

Harry felt this was a bit too obvious of a warning for Percy, and resisted the urge to squeeze Percy's hand. "You're not looking for a love match like our hosts?" asked Harry, nodding to where the two chefs were sharing a heart-shaped cake that appeared to be filled with strawberries and cream, oblivious to anything but one another.

A flash of something unpleasant went across Crawford's face before he schooled it away, and Harry gave in to his instincts and slid his foot over to touch Percy's, the only comfort he could offer without giving them away. "I prefer the occasional bit of variety in my lovers, just as you like it in your dinners," he said.

Harry felt free to make a face right back, as his reputation wasn't exactly one of elegance and refinement anyway. "That sounds awfully cold. I bet Percy wants to fall in love someday, don't you?"

Percy looked as though he devoutly wished he didn't have to answer, but then Artemis gave him an encouraging little smile, and he straightened up that last iota. "Oh, yes, Harry. I can't imagine hopping from bed to bed until I'm old enough to make them hop to me," he said pointedly.

Harry cheered inwardly, even if it meant that Percy would have to look a bit longer for a mentor. He would rather see Percy find the right mentor than go with a man like Crawford, and Harry had a feeling Percy was starting to agree despite Crawford's charm.

Snape chose that moment to speak up, saying, "A man like me can only hope some foolish youth will fall in love before he realises what he's getting himself into." He pointedly didn't look at Harry, holding Crawford's gaze challengingly instead.

Crawford sniffed. "To each their own, I suppose," he said, though it was clear from his tone he preferred his way as much as they preferred theirs.

They didn't linger over afters as they might have if Percy and Crawford had properly hit it off, and it was still relatively early when they said their farewells to Bartholomew and Artemis, who expressed their regrets that Percy and Crawford hadn't hit it off as they'd hoped. "Can we walk you home?" Snape offered to Percy, much to Harry's delight.

Percy grinned like a child who'd been given a sweet after the dentist, and said, "I'd be honoured to have such a wonderful escort."

Harry snorted, but took one of Snape's arms when Snape offered Percy the other. "I take it you didn't really like him after all?" he asked, figuring he could get away with it now that they were out of earshot and walking the streets of wizarding London, toward the residential area that held Percy's flat.

"He was charming enough," Percy hedged, leading them back out to the main thoroughfare, "but you were right, Harry, he wasn't looking for the same things I am."

Harry flushed; he'd been hoping he wasn't quite that obvious. "Sorry about that, I just... I guess I want everyone I, um, care about to find love."

Percy looked surprised at that idea, but not unpleasantly so. "Thank you, Harry," he said warmly. "That means a lot to me."

They came to another of the hidden offshoots of Diagon Alley, which the crooked sign declared to be Periffer Alley. "My flat's just down this way," said Percy, nodding.

They'd just stepped through and onto the cosy little street when a commotion started up behind them. Snape quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm on them all, and then backed them into the shadows. "Don't be a fool," he said sharply, probably for Harry's benefit.

Harry could see why -- first a green cloud rose into the sky, forming itself into a fearsome Dark Mark, and then a whole crowd of black-robed figures went scampering past, hexing and vandalising as they went. Harry's heart leapt into his throat and commenced an attempt to choke him, and he shrank back, knowing without a doubt that he'd be dead the moment he was spotted. Fortunately for them, the mouth of the alley was concealed by both of the leaning buildings on either side, not to mention the magic that gently discouraged those with no business there to stay out on Diagon and leave the resident wizards and witches alone.

Harry's nervous fingers found the chain and pulled out his watch, flipping it open to see a whole new set of symbols marching across the blackened face. He tried to memorise them, knowing he'd want to get Hermione's advice later, wishing for a quill and ink as they slowly slunk out of sight. The face cleared up and he could see the usual configuration, one hand coming to rest on the 6 while the other crept away from the black toward a neutral grey. He hit a button, and the whole thing changed, the background a dismal sort of green with coloured pools floating above the face, including one that was shimmery and strange right in the middle. "That almost looks like a Disillusionment Charm feels," Harry muttered, poking his finger at the pool of colour. It sent a shivery feeling up his finger when he did, so he tried it with the others, finding several of them had quite the sharp bite. 

"This is really odd," said Harry, shaking his head and hitting the switch again, only to get another series of dials. One had with two hands, the longer pointing to wispy clouds, while the shorter hand wavered between heavier clouds and rain. A second, smaller dial went from red to green, and was firmly fixed in the yellow zone between them, and there was a little round window that irised open to show a frowning moon, half-dark just like the real one.

"Odd or not," said Snape grimly, "we'd best get you to Percy's Floo and back to school. We're lucky they were only up for a bit of mayhem, and not looking for you specifically."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, pocketing the watch with a shrug; he'd figure it out someday, but today wasn't that day, obviously. "Is your Floo open, Percy?"

"Yes, of course," said Percy, his voice tight with fear, face pale in the gloom. "My flat's just this way, come along," he said, grabbing Snape's arm in a tight grip and practically dragging them a few doors down to a tall, crooked building with a grey kneazle guarding the door, or possibly just sleeping on the welcome mat.

Percy put his hand on the door and nothing happened. "Damn. Can you remove the Charm, Severus?" he asked, looking unhappy about the whole affair. Snape obliged and Percy touched the door again, making it swing inward. "Don't mind Sherbert, he sleeps through everything," said Percy, stepping carefully over the cat, who opened one baleful eye and watched while the rest of them followed, then closed it again as the door swung shut.

Harry chuckled. "I'm sure he makes a brilliant attack cat," he said, following as Percy led them through the pokey little lobby and up the stairs.

One of the plants tried to snap at them as they passed, but Snape quelled it with a look.

They trooped upstairs and Percy let them into his flat, which was just as scrupulously neat as Harry had always imagined, if more bare. "I'm going to give you a whole stack of tacky knickknacks next Christmas," said Harry, looking around. He'd owled some chocolates to Percy, a whole tower, but next chance he had he'd be sure to send him something more lasting to commemorate the friendship they were building together. 

Percy laughed, going straight to the fireplace to check on the stash of Floo powder he kept in a used biscuit tin, then lit the fire with a casual wave of his wand. "Others have tried, but I just keep it all in a drawer," he replied, returning the tease with a nervous air, though he was starting to relax now that he was safely inside his flat and cradled in his own and the building's wards.

Snape laughed, then stepped forward and laid a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Someday you'll have mementos you'll want to see every day," he said, and Harry had to swallow down a bit of jealousy at the way Percy leaned into Snape's warmth.

He stepped up to Percy and laid a hand on Percy's arm, looking up into the earnest brown eyes. "You'll make lots of memories you want reminding of," said Harry. He shot Snape a glance, then went up on tiptoe and brushed his lips over Percy's cheek in a chaste kiss. 

Percy's eyes went wide and his cheeks regained some of their colour, and Harry smiled a secret smile as he got both the things he'd wanted -- Percy's mind onto a better track, and a small boost for his ego. Percy's smile was more fragile than Harry's, but he seemed to be relaxing under the warmth of their regard as he said, "I'm sure I will."

Snape took the tin from his hands and put the lid back on, setting it back on the mantle. "I have my own, there's no need to empty your own supply," he said, pulling a snuffbox from his pocket and flipping it open to reveal a compartment that didn't seem all that large until he poured out a handful and made barely a dent. "Listen carefully, Harry, I don't want to have to come back for you," he said, handing Harry the tin before throwing the powder onto the fire and reciting, "Severus Snape's Quarters!"

He disappeared in a whoosh of green flame, and Harry turned his attention back to Percy for a moment. "You'll find someone, I promise," he said recklessly, giving Percy an awkward hug. Percy stiffened at first, then relaxed and began to put his arms around just as Harry was pulling back, so he tried to drop them just as Harry moved in again. They laughed and hugged properly for a long moment, then Harry said, "I'd better go."

"Thank you," said Percy, brushing a shy kiss over Harry's fringe before stepping back completely, neatly avoiding their earlier dance.

Harry grinned and poured out his own handful of powder, capping the box and pocketing it. "Anything for a mate," he said casually, going to the fire.

"You make a better friend than I deserve," said Percy.

"You deserve a lot more than me," scoffed Harry. "But you can't get rid of me now." He winked and threw the powder, figuring he wouldn't get a better exit line.

The fire whooshed and he stumbled out at the other end and right into Snape's arms. "Fancy meeting you here," said Harry with a silly grin, dusting himself off before Austereus could protest impropriety. He handed back the snuffbox and said, "Handy thing, that."

"Very much so," said Snape grimly. "I would love to end our evening on a better note, but we must see the headmaster."

Harry sighed, but he knew Snape was right. "After you, Professor," he said, gesturing toward the door.

Snape snorted and performed a dusting charm on Harry, resulting in a cloud of soot and a spate of sneezing. "Er, thanks," said Harry, following him to the door. He supposed it wouldn't do to get Dumbledore's office all over soot.

At least there was bound to be tea.


	21. Creature Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape proves that, while impotent against the Dark Lord's forces, he still has some virility in him.

Snape stalked the halls, frustrated beyond belief at his own impotence in the face of the new reports of Death Eater activity rolling in every day. More and more businesses were being raided or abandoned, more homes found devoid of life, more families torn asunder by the depredations of war. And all the while, Snape was trapped at Hogwarts, teaching potions to idiots and worse than useless, now that his cover had been blown.

It was only when he looked at Harry that he felt the sacrifice was worthwhile, and even he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty about that.

He stormed into his office after a long night of venting his spleen on every horny, errant student lurking in dark corners hoping to get a bit of a snog, only to come up short at the sight of not one but two unexpected guests.

"Severus!" said Fred cheerfully, from where he was lounging in Snape's chair, with his feet up on Snape's desk.

"We were wondering when you'd show up," said George, propped against the back of the chair and running his fingers sensually through Fred's hair.

"We wanted to surprise you," said Fred, reaching back unerringly to slip his fingers down over the bulge of George's erect cock.

"If you're free for the night, that is," said George.

Snape closed the door behind him, and George leaned down to kiss his brother deeply, an erotic display that never failed to get Snape's libido very firmly interested. "All night?" asked Snape hopefully, already moving toward the door to his private quarters.

"All night," the twins agreed in unison, Fred following Snape with George hot on his heels.

Snape got his wards to accept him despite his distraction, and the door swung open to reveal a parlour already lit by the house elves, a fire burning cheerily in the hearth. Much to Snape's relief, Austereus seemed to have had other business for the night, and his frame contained nothing but the imposing, empty desk he'd been painted behind, and the seldom-seen leather armchair he usually occupied. "Bed?" asked Snape, wanting both to commence immediately and to avoid having his ancestor return at a bad moment.

"Bed," agreed George, stripping his shirt off over his head.

"Or bath," suggested Fred, following suit.

Snape chuckled, "They're both this way," he said, leading them into the bedroom and shutting the door firmly behind him. "Perhaps bed, then bath, then back to bed?" he offered, knowing that he had enough pent-up frustration to last at least two rounds, if not three.

"Perfect," said George, skinning out of his clothing and leaving it in a pile.

Fred rolled his eyes and levitated the pile to a chair, then added his own. "Our coats are in your office, no one will find that suspicious, I trust?"

"The wards are up now, anyway," said Snape, hanging his own clothing up in the wardrobe, which would clean and press them as soon as the door was closed, leaving the suit clean and ready for the morning. "Did you bring anything besides yourselves?" he asked, adding, "Not that you two aren't bounty enough."

"Naah, we figured you'd have lube," said Fred, coming over to help Snape with his boots.

"And the elves will take care of the rest," said George, amused.

"You might as well hang your things in the wardrobe, then," said Snape, slipping out of his shirt, balanced on one foot in deference to Fred's delightfully submissive assistance.

The exchanged an opaque look, and George gathered their clothing and began placing it just as Snape had, socks and pants in the little hamper to one side, shirts and trousers on some spare hangers, and even their scruffy old jackets summoned from the other room after a moment's thought. "There, all neat," said George with a grin, just as Fred reached past him to put Snape's socks and everyone's shoes in their proper places.

Snape looked at them both and then sighed. "I'm not sure I have the energy for taking roles tonight," he confessed. He was weary in spirit more than body, tired of having nothing to do but wait and train Harry in skills he might never use, that might save his life.

Fred grinned and nuzzled at his thigh. "You don't have to," he said, mouth moving to fill itself with Snape's bollocks rather than mere words.

"We just missed you," said George simply, stepping in for a kiss.

Snape returned the kiss with interest, a shiver running through him as Fred's wicked tongue flicked over his sensitive skin. "I missed you, too," he confessed, hoping they'd understand that he'd missed their conversations, too, and their companionship, almost more than the sex.

Almost.

Snape tugged gently at Fred's hair until he could claim a kiss from Fred's wet mouth. He led them both to his bed, wide and lonely as it had seemed and barely big enough for the three of them now.

"I want you inside of me," said George, slipping between the sheets first and pulling Snape to him.

"While I'm inside you," added Fred, the words a caress against Snape's ear as much as his fingers were caressing Snape's arse.

"Good," said Snape, all he could think of when he was suddenly surrounded by their warmth, held and touched so tenderly that even he couldn't deny there was some measure of affection, some caring in their actions.

It was an affection that he returned, despite the growing love for Harry that he could admit to in the safety of his own mind, in the sanctuary of their arms.

Their kisses lingered on and on, one and then the other and then both, wet and hot and undemanding now that their course had been laid. As if in tacit agreement, they were all content to take the long path tonight, reminding themselves with lips and hands and bodies what they'd been missing in the months since the summer. The twins' skin was rougher now that it was winter, though their inner thighs were still soft as silk, and at some point George had shaved his bollocks while Fred's were still fuzzed, which made for an interesting sensation when Snape had a hand wrapped around each.

"I lost a bet," said George, giving Snape's left nipple a lick.

"I like the way they feel against my tongue," said Fred, sucking a mark onto Snape's neck.

Snape gave both handfuls a gentle squeeze. "It does make you easier to tell apart in the dark," he teased, kissing George's hair and inhaling the scent of hair potion and confectioner's sugar. "Working on something new?" he asked, slipping his fingers back behind their balls to press up teasingly.

Twin gasps, and they stumbled over each other to say, "Sex now, work later."

Snape chuckled wickedly and stole kisses, then released them both and rolled onto his side to present his arse to Fred. His fingers found George's hair first, then skittered down his body, sneaking back until they found his entrance and began to caress it, not going inside but just stroking the wrinkled flesh with one dry fingertip.

One of George's hands found Snape's arse and, instead of returning the caress, he pulled it open so that Fred's slick fingers could wend their way inside. The conjured lubricant wasn't as good as the potions they brewed themselves, any of them, but it was quick and good enough to get one thick finger buried in Snape's body, and in that moment that was all that mattered to Snape. George gave his cheek a squeeze and then let go, slipping the hand back up his body and into his hair, finding his mouth to drink down the sounds that Fred was wringing from him. "You're so beautiful when we fuck you," said Fred, breath hot in his ear, bringing to mind images of them both together, in him at once.

Snape groaned, feeling his body flare open at the thought, feeling George's entrance flutter against his fingertip. He took a deep breath and kissed George hard, then said a bit desperately, "The r-red apple."

Fred's brows knit, then he rolled over and said, "Oh!" When he returned, he held the shining apple-shaped glass bottle, Harry's gift to Snape. It had seen much use this year already, since Snape had first made the slow-brewing lubricant it now contained, concentrated enough that just a few drops would last through a long wank, and only a few more would be needed for this.

Snape pulled out the leaf stopper with its long, frosted stem, then glided it up and around his own cock, leaving random patterns of glistening fluid. He returned it to the bottle and held out his hand, the other trapped beneath him. "If you would do the honours?" he asked, holding out two fingers in obscene demand.

Fred groaned and stroked the stopper over Snape's fingers, the touch of cool glass nearly as arousing as it had been on the more intimate flesh of his cock. "Perfect," said Snape, using his thumb to smear it around, then returning his attention to George's willing body.

"Please," said George, kissing him hungrily as soon as his mouth was in reach. Snape obliged him both with kisses and a finger slipped into his willing entrance, finding him ready enough that one swiftly became two.

"Missed you," groaned Fred, his cock already slick and pressed at Snape's arse, demanding entrance. Snape pushed back just enough to give permission, and Fred groaned and slid forward, inward. "Need you," he gasped, shuddering to a stop once he was fully engulfed by Snape's body.

"Need you," echoed George, pulling away and rolling over, letting Snape guide him back until he could slide himself down onto Snape's cock, until everything was tight and hot and wonderfully close between the three of them.

"Need this," admitted Snape, face buried in the back of George's neck as he struggled to stay still, to hold onto this moment as long as they'd let him.

Fred's lips moved over Snape's shoulder, lightly grazing, tongue flicking out to taste here and there as he worked his way up to Snape's neck. "Good," he said, a possessive note to his voice that sent heat straight to Snape's balls. Fred's hand slipped up Snape's body, then tugged his chin back until they could kiss awkwardly. He looked like he might have wanted to say more, but George let out a frustrated sound and pushed back, taking Snape that last, tiny bit deeper.

"Now!" insisted George, and the lust swept away any laughter from Snape's mind as Fred pulled slowly away, tugging Snape with him. It took a few tries before they established a rhythm of short, sharp strokes that made use of every bit of motion they could manage, entwined as they were. The last of their words lost coherence and their voices became a chorus of pleasure, Snape's hand wrapping around George's cock and trying to imagine a world in which George could be in Fred to truly complete the circuit.

Snape was the first to let go, coming with a low groan as his whole body bucked and tightened with the force of his release. Rather than let himself go limp with the afterglow, he forced his hips and hand to keep time with Fred's, the sensations nearly overwhelming in the wake of such pleasure. George was next, coming over Snape's hand with a low groan, arse tightening just enough to draw a gasp from Snape, pleasure so intense it was almost pain shivering along his nerves. Fred kept going, fucking into him, into them both for what seemed like forever until he, too, found the peak of release and spilled into Snape.

Snape couldn't help but be grateful when George rolled away, turning over and drawing him close, pulling him off of Fred's softening cock with a sweet, enticing kiss. 

"We really have missed you," said Fred softly.

"I know," said Snape; he'd felt it with every touch, every stroke, every kiss, the longing that suffused his own body connecting with theirs, translating itself into their shared desires.

George laughed and kissed him again, while Fred snuggled back up, sharing their closeness, too. "We don't want to lose you," whispered George.

Snape closed his eyes and swallowed, nodding. "I don't know what will happen," he confessed. "Harry loves you, too."

"We love him," agreed Fred, kissing George softly, cheek resting against Snape's.

They shared a sigh and fell silent, staying together until their sweat had cooled, until their breaths were slow and even, until the moment passed and the banked coals of desire began to spark anew, fuelled by the very closeness that had cooled them. "I think," said Snape, licking his way into Fred's mouth despite the awkward angle, "that it's bath time."

Fred grinned against his lips, then passed the kiss to George so he could slip out of bed. "I think," he began, giving Snape's hips a gentle tug.

"You're right," finished George, nipping at Snape's lower lip playfully before letting him get up, then following along.

They padded into the bathroom together, and Snape set the tub to filling with a great deal of gratuitous bending over. While not as magnificent as the bath set aside for the Prefects, Snape's tub was also sunken, with plenty of room for three men who didn't mind getting a bit close, and over two dozen silver snake taps that gave luxurious bubbles, oils and soaps. The tub slowly filled, the water swirling green with a plethora of golden, star-shaped bubbles coming up from the bottom to float on top, giving off a spicy scent that went well with the soft herbal bath oil. It was a luxury Snape appreciated, and one he was glad he had to share with the twins.

"Nice," said George, stepping down into the tub and settling on one of the benches, cock and bollocks floating between spread thighs before they were covered by the rising bubbles.

"Very," said Fred, slipping in on the other side, not bothering with the shallow steps. They left a conspicuous space between them which Snape gladly filled, though he took the stairs rather than risk spoiling his evening with a twisted ankle or bruised hip.

Snape let his hands find the tempting goal of their balls once more, the warm sacs filling each palm comfortably. "The texture really is quite intriguing," said Snape, rolling them and tugging them. "It's the contrast that makes it, I think."

They both laughed and took turns kissing him, hands roaming over Snape's body and each other, while Snape contented himself with what was to be found in their laps, and between their legs. The bath oil, a potion he himself renewed when it began to ran out, eased his way, so his fingers glided like silk over their cocks, between conveniently spreading thighs, and into welcoming bodies. Their kisses and touches grew more playful, starting as a tickle-and-fondle fight and ending with a series of bubble-head charms and a very interesting underwater configuration that barely fit even in Snape's enormous tub.

When they finally made it back into the bedroom, laughter still flitting between them and a smile on all their faces, they found yet another surprise. A tray had appeared by the bed, containing not Snape's usual nighttime snack of tea and shortbread, but a steaming pitcher of cocoa, bowls of peppermint candy, whipped cream and marshmallows to put in it, and a whole spice cake that smelled enticingly of rum and cinnamon.

"What's this?" asked Fred, picking up a sweet and popping it in his mouth.

Snape smiled and poured a cup, adding two peppermints and a dollop of sweet cream. "Apparently, the house elves have figured out you're here, and decided that we all needed a bit of a treat."

George grinned. "Brilliant, then there'll be breakfast!" He poured for himself and Fred as well, piling one up with marshmallows and putting half the bowl of whipped cream on the other.

Fred cut into the cake wordlessly, finding it dotted with raisins and still warm enough to steam as he put generous portions on the three plates. "This is what I call comfort," he said, hopping into bed. One plate and the cup with all the cream followed him, and took a big swig of the chocolate, getting cream on the end of his nose.

Snape chuckled and climbed in right after him. "If you get crumbs in my bed, I shall have to spank you both," he warned. Then he spoiled the effect by leaning in to lick the cream off Fred's nose, following it up with a kiss.

He felt the bed dip as George joined them, their treats floating into place in front of each of them like obedient pets, bobbing gently and waiting to please. "That's not much of a threat, considering how much we enjoyed our last spankings," said George, giving Snape's ear a little nip and then eating a big bite of cake.

Fred took a bite, too, and made a face that until now Snape associated entirely with more carnal pursuits. "Oh, that's heavenly," he said, sinking down into the pillows a little and tugging his plate closer.

Snape tasted his own cake and couldn't help but agree, and they all ate in silence for a few minutes, slowly snuggling closer until they were left with nothing but cocoa, crumbs, and each other. "So, just what is this new project?" asked Snape, enjoying the sharp, minty flavour of his drink, now that the sweets had melted and mixed properly with the chocolate.

Fred and George exchanged looks, and then they both grinned openly. "You can't tell anyone," said George.

"It's going to be brilliant," said Fred, bouncing excitedly.

"It's like a combination of a Disillusionment charm," explained George.

"And a simple pattern charm, like they use for cheap clothes," added Fred

"Except on our fabric, it'll be like a chameleon!" finished George triumphantly.

"You know, matching your surroundings wherever you go," explained Fred, when Snape looked a bit blank.

Snape blinked, then grinned. "Not as good as an invisibility cloak, but a bit cheaper, I'd expect," he said, taking another sip of his minty cocoa. "Will you be able to turn it off, so it's just a cloak sometimes?"

Fred grinned. "That was the idea that won me the bet," he said, giving George a leer. "We're making it reversible."

George leered right back, licking a bit of cream off his lips. "Black on one side, chameleon on the other," he said, then finished off the last of his cocoa and sent the cup back to the tray. "Now..."

"Are you feeling fortified?" asked Fred, sending his own cup away and leaning right over Snape to meet George in the middle for a kiss that was hotter than the chocolate.

Snape gulped down the last of his, figuring he'd need the sugar to keep up with the twins. "I'm certainly feeling inspired," he said, sending his own cup away and running his hands down each of their backs to cup their round, inviting arses. He joined in the kiss with the smoothness of long practice, and let himself enjoy the time he had with his lovers; his worries would still be around in the morning.

Tonight, he had far more interesting things to think about.


	22. Falling Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The school year marches on, and Harry begins to lose his grip on hope.

Harry hadn't seen much of Snape for the rest of the winter hols, and once classes started back up, he was drawn into the whirlwind of NEWTs and study tables and revising and revising and revising. It seemed like time simultaneously slowed to a crawl and sped up to breakneck speeds, never enough of it to get done what he needed to do and not fast enough to the end of the year, when he'd finally be able to be, well, with someone, anyway.

He was starting to doubt that someone would be Snape.

"Ten points from Gryffindor. Do I have to send you back to First Year, Potter, or do you think you can remember the difference between beetle eyes and whole beetles for the duration of one entire class?" sneered Snape during Potions on one dismal spring afternoon.

Harry sighed, heart going leaden. "No, sir, I mean, yes, sir," he said dispiritedly, not even bothering to argue that he'd been rearranging the jars in their case while Hermione gathered their ingredients.

Snape snorted derisively and swooped on to tell a Ravenclaw she ought to have been in Hufflepuff, if she was still afraid to kill a few slugs. "Don't worry about him," said Hermione softly, patting his arm. "He's been on a tear all week, I heard he even took points from Malfoy once."

"I'm sure that's just a rumour," said Harry dismally, putting his kit away and looking at Hermione's line-up. "Aren't the salmon eggs supposed to go in before the flying fish eggs and after the quail eggs?" he asked, pointing to the jars.

"Oh, you're right!" she said, her perpetual surprise at his recent forays into competence nearly worn away. She switched the jars and they both began to measure and ready ingredients, Harry taking a turn at preparing the base of ostrich egg whites and tincture of black cohosh, then floating a pool of evening primrose oil on top. He brought the heat up slowly so as not to actually cook the egg before it sufficiently mixed with the other ingredients, adding a tiny spark of his own magic as he'd been taught.

"Right, beetle eyes and finely chopped wormwort, to be added together," said Hermione briskly, sliding the bowls over to him.

Harry waited until what felt like the right moment and then dumped in both, using a whisk to get the mixture to work, amazed as always when the herb dissolved and the eyes seemed to glimmer at him in suspension as their magic blended together. "I don't know why we're making a fertility potion anyway," said Harry, slipping in the ostrich egg yolks that Hermione had fortified with the juice from a luck lime.

"Because the complex blending of similar yet disparate ingredients is, as I have said on numerous occasions and in a plethora of ways, an art which is required for all advanced potions," said Snape. "Five points from Gryffindor. You're on a roll today, Potter."

Harry winced, nearly missing his cue to add the tiny, slippery mirror minnows to the cauldron. "Yes, sir," he said miserably, watching the potion take on a silvery, reflective sheen.

"It's also on the NEWT study list," said Hermione sensibly. She'd finished prepping and was busying herself with cleaning the bowls they'd already used, while Harry counted off twenty-three seconds before adding the quail eggs, salmon eggs and flying fish eggs in quick succession. He started the hourglass going for nine minutes and thirty-three seconds gratefully, then turned to help Hermione put ingredients away.

"I suppose you're right," said Harry with a shrug. He watched Snape swoop down on the class's lone Hufflepuff with terrifying glee, and tried to remember that there were times when he wasn't horrible. That at one point he'd liked Harry enough to kiss him.

Those times seemed very far away as Harry watched the sand fall through the hourglass, Male Mountebank Mushrooms at the ready.

* * *

A few weeks later, Saturday came around far too quickly and Harry lay in bed staring at the ceiling and wondering where all the time kept going. He had thirty inches due in Charms on Monday, forty due in Potions, and he was supposed to have managed to Transfigure himself into, well, anything at all, which he hadn't yet.

When Snape's owl came at breakfast, instructing him to dress down and meet Snape in his quarters, Harry did something unprecedented. He sent back a politely-worded refusal, with a hastily-scrawled postscript explaining that, no, he wasn't practising, he really did need the day to revise. He sent the owl back and left before he could see Snape's reaction, something cold and heavy settling in the pit of his stomach as he headed for the dorm. Not dread, precisely, though he thought Snape might be angry with him, but more a leaden resignation that right now his Defence NEWT was more important than polishing up his social skills.

He showed up in the library a few minutes later with a stack of books and a dark expression. "Started Potions yet?" he asked dully, sitting at Ron and Hermione's table.

"You're not done with that yet? Oh, Harry, how ever will you get everything finished in time!" she exclaimed, passing over her notes with a pitying expression that turned puzzled. "Wait, why aren't you heading off to your Etiquette lesson?"

"I begged off," he said with a shrug. "This is more important, isn't it?"

Ron snorted. "I'd take lessons in getting," he paused and glanced at Hermione, "er, dates, over revising any day."

"Yeah, well," said Harry with a shrug, opening the book to the chapter on Deadly Interactions and pulling Hermione's notes closer. "I have to live through NEWTs before I can worry about that, don't I?"

Ron nodded sympathetically and they all set to work, passing books and notes around with murmured thanks as the clock ticked on toward lunch.

* * *

"Bugger!" said Harry as pain lanced through his head, shaking it dully to clear his vision of stars. 

"Language, Mr. Potter!" said Professor McGonagall reproachfully.

One glance in the mirror proved that the headache was all he had to show for his attempt at self-Transfiguration, and he nearly swore again. "Sorry, Professor," he said, brows knitting. "I just can't figure out why this is so hard."

"It's very advanced magic," she said sympathetically.

"That's boll- uh, not really an excuse," said Harry, annoyed. "I mean, look!" He Transfigured his notes into a live raven, which squawked and ruffled its feathers, then glared at him with the same expression as McGonagall. He transformed everything back flawlessly, though there was a stray doodled feather in one corner that he wasn't positive was his own doing.

Hermione patted Harry on the shoulder. "I'm sure it will come to you," she said distractedly. She'd Transfigured her own hair into a nest of hissing snakes, most of whom appeared to be complaining about her choice of bath products. "It's bound to be on the NEWT, anyway."

Harry didn't find that at all comforting.

"If you can't manage it at all, I'll have to give you a zero for the day," added Professor McGonagall briskly. "Honestly, you've had three weeks!"

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. Maybe if he started with something simpler. He changed the colour of his eyebrows to blue and back again, then his hair into feathers, still black and still hopelessly rumpled. Then he turned it back and started the spell one last time, trying to give himself the head of a bird, like one of those Egyptian gods.

When he woke up in the Infirmary, he still had the headache, his own familiar face, and a note from Snape saying that points would be deducted for turning in his essay late.

Harry groaned, and wished he was living someone else's life for a while.

* * *

Harry dreamed he was falling.

The wind rushed all around him and it was almost peaceful until he realized he didn't have a broom, or any idea of how far he was going to fall, how long he'd already been falling, or why. He looked up and it was nothing but stars, and somehow he couldn't bring himself to look away, look down, to anticipate the sudden stop at the end.

He tried to find constellations but the stars were unfamiliar, no Orion's belt or Little Dipper to orient himself on. He widened his search and suddenly he could see it, all around him, a leering skull and writhing snake.

He woke, sweating, before he could hit the ground.

"Bugger."

He flopped back onto the bed in exhaustion, and was back asleep in moments. He had the dream seven times that night, and each time it seemed the ground loomed closer, and the stars were more green.

He went to see the Headmaster before breakfast, wondering what it meant.

* * *

"You could do this a month ago!" yelled Snape, frustrated and angry. "What has gotten into you, boy?"

Harry flinched and sighed, rubbing his aching forehead. "I don't know! I just... freeze up somehow." He buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes until he saw sparkles, then came up with a gasp. "It's the dream."

"What?" said Snape, confused.

"The dream. I'm falling in the dream, don't you see? And now I'm afraid again, when before I could fly and it was all right."

"That clever, evil... We're going to have to work harder to overcome it. And you'll have to go flying more often, you haven't been since you had the dream, have you?"

Harry shook his head mutely. "I haven't had time. I _don't_ have time, honestly. I've got more to do than I could manage even with a Time Turner."

Snape glared. "We'll make time."

* * *

Harry hadn't seen the twins since Christmas, and he had almost grown used to the constant gnawing want for sex, for company, for someone who smiled and held him and even just for the press of lips against his own. He easily fended off the few offers he got by citing his own busy schedule and uncertain future, though it seemed to make him something of a romantic figure among a certain segment of the female population. Around Valentine's Day he'd almost been tempted to out himself just to get relief, but by this time of year even that small trickle of attention had dried up.

Harry felt rather pathetic for almost wishing it hadn't.

"Today," said Snape, pulling Harry out of his wallowing and back to the lesson at hand, "I will start teaching you the art of epistolary courtship."

"What?" said Harry, wondering if Snape did this on purpose, just to see him looking confused.

Snape smirked, and Harry sighed. "Love letters, Potter. We will be writing to Fred and George."

Harry groaned. He'd had an essay due in every single class this week, and was full up with writing. "Can't I just send them a greeting card or something?" he asked piteously.

Snape's expression frosted over. "If you do not value the skills I am attempting to impart to you, you can stop the lessons entirely."

"No, no, that's not... I'm sorry, I'm just very stressed. NEWTs are coming up and I've had so many essays to write that I'm nearly out of parchment, not to mention revising and nightmares and wondering if V- You Know Who will mess it all up the way he did my History OWL," said Harry, one long string of helpless excuses.

Snape relented only a little, melting enough to tap the salver of writing paraphernalia to send it back to the mantle, then calling the tea service to replace it. "You are becoming overwrought. Have there been more dreams?" he asked, passing Harry a perfectly made cuppa.

Harry shivered, but shook his head. "No, it was just that one night, like... like he figured out what we were doing somehow."

"That may well be the case," said Snape with a nod.

Harry sipped the tea and sighed, letting it relax him a little despite that awful thought. "Is it hard, writing to someone like that?" he asked. In truth, he found the whole prospect both daunting and terribly romantic, in a way he hadn't thought himself capable of. As if he could write to Severus as though he were a distant love who needed wooing back to Harry's side, rather than merely hidden behind Snape's unpleasant exterior, and rediscover the passion that had fuelled his efforts all through the summer and autumn, and kept him warm in his lonely bed this winter.

"It can be difficult to find the right balance between honest sentiment and saccharine foolishness," said Snape, obviously a man who preferred the former, if he had to have anything at all.

"Well, can you use the same, I dunno, tricks and stuff as you would when you're talking?" he asked, setting down his now-empty teacup.

Snape, apparently sensing that Harry was feeling properly fortified, refilled the cup and began his lecture again. Harry took prodigious notes, and they agreed to wait and write their letters next week, when most of Harry's classes would have quizzes instead of essays.

* * *

The dreams came again, but flying with Snape made it better. Snape booked the pitch for the two of them twice a week, just half an hour sometimes when they were both particularly busy, but it was enough. Enough to rise up in the sky on his trusty Firebolt, to see Snape across from him on a wobbly old school broom, enough to share those few moments of freedom.

Harry started making progress again, and the relief was palpable. He had to cancel his Etiquette lessons twice more, but the scorching letter he got from Fred and George in response to his original, awkward missive motivated him into practising enough to garner Snape's forgiveness, if not approval.

He felt like his brain was overly full, but everything was starting to fall into place, facts strung together by repetition and sheer determination until he could see the progression of shielding spells to counterspells dancing behind his eyes whenever he went to bed. At the very least, it was an excellent way to clear his mind, letting the seventeen types of purgatives melt into an empty blue sky before he slipped into slumber every night.

That was, of course, when Harry managed to bollix it all up, with no one to blame but himself.

"Where's Linfold's Curses and Curatives, Harry?" asked Hermione, shuffling through their stacks of books late one night, sharing the common room with several other groups of desperate fifth and seventh year Gryffindors.

Harry poked around, then swore. "I left it in the library, remember, when I was getting those Herbology books from the bibliography."

She sighed, looking around to see if anyone else happened to have a copy. "I don't suppose you got his list of fatal fungi of the far east before you did?" she asked, without much hope.

Harry shook his head. "Look, it's my fault, I'll go get it," he said, standing up and stretching. "Otherwise Pince'll re-file it in the morning, and someone else will check it out, and then where will you be?"

"Oh, Harry, no," she said, though it was unconvincing.

Ron shook his head. "Go on, he's got the cloak. I'm sure he'll be fine, as long as he stays out of the Restricted Section."

Harry slipped away before Hermione could protest again, snagging his cloak from the dorm room and coming back down with it on so she wouldn't know it was him until the portrait opened by itself. He nipped down to the library and found the book just where he'd said, Hermione's markers still in place and everything. He tucked it under one arm and headed back to the dorms as quietly as he could, taking the long way just to enjoy the thrill of freedom for a few extra minutes. He wandered through the castle corridors with his mind miles away, confident that his cloak would keep him from casual detection.

That was, of course, when he rounded a corner and ran straight into Snape.

"I cannot believe you're still up to your old tricks!" said Snape, once he'd picked them both up off the ground. "What is it this time, the Dark Lord hiding in the castle laundry?" he said cruelly.

"No, sir," said Harry, deflating. "I forgot a book in the library, and H- I need it to finish my Potions essay." Which was mostly true, though Hermione needed it more. Harry had already taken down most of his own notes for it, and had moved on to the Herbology references he'd been getting when he'd left the book behind.

Snape glared. "Detention, and twenty points from Gryffindor," he snapped, dragging Harry up toward Gryffindor Tower. He escorted Harry all the way into the common room and announced loudly, "An extra ten points from Gryffindor for not discouraging this behaviour. From each of you."

Everyone in the room groaned, and Harry shrank into himself. Eighty points in one night, and detention besides. His housemates were going to kill him.

* * *

The worst part, aside from the shunning his housemates gave him, was that Snape didn't even bother to supervise Harry's detention himself. Instead, Harry had to give over his entire Saturday helping Professor Sprout fertilise the Rare and Deadly Plants display in Greenhouse 2.

"Harry!" said Neville cheerfully, when he saw Harry trudge through the door at the painfully early hour. "I didn't know you had such an interest in Herbology."

"He doesn't," said Sprout, emerging from the back with an armful of bottles. "He's serving detention."

"Oh," said Neville, in the sort of tone that's both scandalised and apologetic for having brought it up at all.

"It's all right," said Harry with a shrug. "I deserved it, I suppose." He turned to the table, where Sprout had laid out dozens of different bottles, bags and buckets, none of which smelled in any way pleasant.

She smiled grimly at him, and then more kindly to Neville. "Longbottom, you'll supervise. This way, I can do those Battybush cuttings that Professor Snape has been pestering me for, and we'll both have an easier time of things. You know what needs doing, just make sure you watch Harry." She shot him a meaningful glare. "He does not."

Harry refrained from commenting until after she'd bustled off, since he knew very well she was right. "My marks aren't as bad as all that, but she's right, I've no idea what to do with any of this stuff," he said, gesturing toward the display. "Well, except the Danger Daisies, but that's just because of the one you gave me."

Neville laughed. "It's not so bad. First we mix up the fertiliser for whatever plant we're working with, and then we apply it." He gave Harry an amused smirk. "You can do the ones that require dodging."

"Gee, thanks," said Harry, moving up to the table with Neville. First Neville acquired an empty bucket, and then he dug his hands into one of the sacks, coming up with what looked and smelled like shit.

"What _is_ that stuff?" asked Harry, appalled.

"Dragon dung. Welsh green, specifically," said Neville, dropping it into the bucket and dusting off his hands. "Hand me that bottle of Hippogriff semen, will you?"

"Sure," said Harry, snagging the labelled bottle of milky yellow-white fluid. "Wait, what?" He nearly dropped it when he realised what he was holding. "Do I even want to know how they get this?"

Neville laughed and poured a generous splash of it over the dung, making the whole thing smell even worse. "Probably not," he said cheerfully, capping off the bottle and snagging a handful of half-rotten leaves out of a different bucket.

"You volunteered for this," said Harry weakly, as Neville kneaded the mixture together into a disgusting brown morass.

"And you get to spread it over the roots of the Venomous Tentacula," said Neville, washing his hands under the tap and then casting a _Scourgify_ on them for good measure. "Spread, don't pour, and don't let it bite you. We don't have a lot of the anti-serum."

Harry knew he looked nearly as green as the plants as he picked up the bucket and got a closer whiff of the contents. "No wonder these are rare, if this is what you have to do to keep them alive," he said, trudging over to the display. The plant was deceptively quiet, its tentacles dormant, curled protectively around the gently pulsing seed pods at its centre. Harry tried to pretend he didn't see the skeleton half-buried in the earth around it, some small animal that had been unfortunate enough to wander into its reach.

He got a good handful of the muck, and eased his way into range. "I've got some lovely Hippogriff spunk for you right here, now be good or you won't get all your dragon shit," he said in a singsong voice. Then he dodged a striking tentacle, and slapped some of the fertiliser up near the roots. "Naughty, naughty!" he said with a laugh, repeating the action around the other side. By the time the bucket was empty he had muck on his face, a venom-burn in one sleeve of his student robes, and a new appreciation for the strenuous life of the Herbologist. But there was also a fairly solid layer of the stuff over the ground around the vicious plant.

He brought the empty bucket back to Neville and submitted to a thorough magical cleaning. "Might as well take the robe off," said Neville, sprinkling what Harry sincerely hoped was not actually Yeti urine over the second batch of fertiliser. "You'll only get it snagged on more things." Harry did so with a sigh, turning back to find Neville holding out the second bucket, which certainly smelled as though something had peed in it. "Bury the roots of the Sleeping Roses in it. I'll make up the next batch." When Harry hesitated, he added, "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out and Ennervate you if you do get stuck."

"Urgh," was all Harry said, glad that at least he hadn't had to ask which was which so far. He had a sinking feeling, as he tried to pile fertiliser up around the exposed roots of the rose bush without becoming a Sleeping, uh, Boy, that it was only going to get worse from here.


	23. End Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which any number of things come to their conclusion, some of them good.

After a day spent feeding disgusting things to unappreciative, poisonous plants, all Harry wanted to do was sleep. Well, have a bath and then sleep; despite Neville's best efforts, they both left smelling like things best left unidentified, and sweaty besides. They trudged up to the tower together and Harry was kind enough to levitate two sets of clean clothes into the boys' bath ahead of them. One long, grateful shower later and he felt nearly human and willing to delay his imminent collapse until after dinner.

"I know you didn't want to, but thanks for helping anyway," said Neville, smiling shyly as he slipped into his trousers.

Harry smiled back and pointedly did not eye Neville up, though he'd been long enough without that he was rather tempted. "It wasn't so bad, with you there," he replied, giving Neville's hair an extra rub with a clean towel. "At least I wasn't revising."

Neville laughed and shoved him away, and they horsed around until they were both panting and laughing. After they'd straightened themselves up and finished dressing, Harry shot Neville a shy look of his own and said, "Thanks. For, you know, not minding about me."

Neville looked confused, and then he flushed. "Well, mostly I forget, but I also trust you not to, er, y'know."

Harry laughed and gave him a very manly punch in the shoulder and said, "I know. Let's go get dinner."

Harry rummaged through the pile of dirty clothes for his watch and wand, using a quick spell to get most of the muck off. The house elves would take care of the rest, so they headed downstairs, Neville's wand tucked safely away in his robes and Harry's shoved carelessly into his back pocket. Harry flipped open the watch and stared at it, trying to make out a rhyme or reason for any of it. The door with the owl was closed, and the number fluctuated with every step Harry took, the little colour dial slowly going black as the numbers climbed. Harry clicked the switch and got the usual muddy mishmash of colour he always got when he was at Hogwarts, the whole background bright enough to make him squint and overlaid with dozens if not hundreds of those little pools of colour, some of which drifted in and out of existence, while others were only quick bursts.

He flipped it again, past the one he was pretty sure said something about the weather, to the fourth setting. It had always had some dim shapes in it, but now they were sharper, clearer, and Harry gasped to recognise the Voldemort's unmistakable silhouette, backed by a crowd of people Harry thought might be Death Eaters. He clicked again and the figures faded away into a red mist with a glowing golden rune floating in the centre and, as usual, not meaning anything to Harry.

"Did you ever figure that thing out?" asked Neville, pulling Harry back from stepping onto a staircase that had already moved away from their landing.

Harry gave him a sheepish smile. "Not really, no," he said, clicking again. This one held a number of hands pointing in impossible directions, up and down and straight back through the watch, each a different length. The shortest glowed brightly and pointed right behind them, so Harry turned around and tried to figure out what it was pointing to. "C'mon, want to see what this one is?"

"Sure, it's early still. Um, I think, anyway," said Neville, squinting out a window, where the sun was just starting to be dimmed by an oncoming storm.

Harry dragged him off in the direction his watch was pointing, following it like a compass even as it grew shorter, fatter, and brighter. The others began to disappear one by one, until Harry found himself standing right in front of a very familiar door with a rather battered 'Out of Order' sign. "Oh, it's Myrtle's loo!" said Harry, surprised.

"Who?" asked Neville, looking nervous.

Harry put the watch away; the hand had disappeared when Harry touched the door, and the watch had reverted back to the first setting with a soft chime. "Moaning Myrtle, she's the ghost of that girl, the one the basilisk killed the first time around," explained Harry. A feeling of unease prickled up his spine, all the way to his scar, and Harry pulled out his wand. "Look sharp, something's in there," he said, more quietly this time.

Neville went serious and still, pulling out his wand. "I've got your back, Harry."

Harry nodded and swung open the door, expecting to see the old sinks and cracked mirrors, the disused stalls and possibly even the ghost. What he hadn't been expecting to see was Voldemort, whispering to the sink or possibly the snake twirled around his body, eyes red in the mirror, inhuman in his bone-white face.

Harry froze, casting the first spell that came to mind, one he'd only just begun to learn. " _Legilimens_ ," he said, voice quiet and tight.

Voldemort laughed, thin and high, easily pushing Harry out and away, following him back until the girls' bathroom faded away and there was nothing at all but sun and sky and clouds, and Harry flying on his broom with Voldemort floating in front of him like some sort of macabre bird. "Pathetic," said Voldemort, flicking his hand.

Irritation crossed Voldemort's features when his wand failed to appear. "Not as pathetic as you think," said Harry, and then he swallowed and tried to do the one trick he'd yet to manage with Snape even once. He faded out and left the blue, leaving Voldemort in there, trapped in the timeless, endless bubble of sunshine and sky.

Harry blinked and gasped, grateful for Neville's steady hand on his back as he oriented himself to reality, to Voldemort still there in front of them with glazed eyes and, as far as Harry could tell, no one home inside his misshapen skull. Nagini lay stunned at his feet, obviously Neville's doing while Harry had been occupied for who knew how long inside his own mind.

Silvery ropes came from Neville's wand to bind Voldemort, spinning out and around him until he was covered in a cocoon of them. Harry stood and watched, trying to hold that infinite bubble in his mind without getting drawn back inside, staring at those blank eyes and wondering what on earth he was supposed to do now. Snape had never covered this in any of his classes.

Myrtle chose that moment to come floating up out of the drain and coo at him. "Aren't you two just a pair of heroes!" she said, drifting toward them. "Would you like a kiss from the rescued maiden?"

Harry blinked and wobbled, feeling the pressure inside him increasing with Voldemort's trapped rage. "Get Snape," he gasped, grabbing the doorway for support. "Now, Myrtle, now!"

"Spoilsport," she said, sulking for just a moment before letting herself be drawn back into the plumbing.

Harry could only hope that someone had noticed what was going on, that help was on its way, because Harry wasn't going to be able to hold in all that was Lord Voldemort for much longer.

"I'm here, Harry," said Neville, hand warm on his back, voice steady and his presence solid. He lent Harry that extra determination he'd always shown, and Harry used that strength to expand the space inside him, making it more vast, nearly infinite, taking away all sense of time passing until the pressure faded just a little. "What should we do?"

"I don't know," said Harry, thinking of all the spells he'd learned thanks to Hermione. "I don't know what would kill him, and I... I have to kill him."

Neville's eyes went wide but he didn't show a moment of doubt. "I guess it always was your task," he said, hand tightening on his wand until the knuckles went white.

Harry nodded, leaning into Neville just a little. "I need you to help me, I always have," he said hoarsely, a thin sliver of hate lashing him in places he didn't know could feel pain, trying to break him apart from the inside out.

Running footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Snape arrived breathless with Myrtle floating after. "I did as you said, can I have my kiss now?" she said sweetly.

"He's going to break me apart," said Harry with a little moan of pain, leaning more heavily into Neville, who only held on more firmly.

Snape turned and saw the bound form on the floor and seemed to understand what was happening. He strode over to Voldemort and took the wand from his limp white hand, then brought it to Harry. "This will kill him," he said, wrapping Harry's hand around both of the wands. Harry felt them thrum with power, brought together like this rather than pitted against one another, and he gasped as the presence inside him grew closer, pressing against Harry's mind despite its confinement. "Hurry, Harry! Use his hate against him."

Harry understood all of a sudden -- he'd never once managed even a single Unforgivable, not that Snape had ever encouraged him to try, but he finally had inside him the one thing that would fuel a curse powerful enough to kill Voldemort once and for all. Harry caught onto the next lash of burning hate inside him instead of passively resisting it, then sent it through him, out toward the two wands. They recognised the magic and welcomed it, growing hot in Harry's hand as he pulled Voldemort's power into them along with his own. " _Incendio_!" he yelled, feeling the hot rage and bitter hate spool out of him, through both wands and into the body of its originator.

Voldemort's body didn't catch flame like a bit of paper; instead the heat coalesced at the very core of him, growing hotter and hotter until cracks formed on the surface of his skin, his own hate burning him from the inside out. At the very last moment Harry gave a mental shove with everything he had left, pushing Voldemort out completely and back into his own body. Harry's scar flared white-hot and painful, but his gaze never wavered as Voldemort's glowing eyes grew wide, just before a final burst of heat flared through him and he exploded into a cloud of hot ash.

"Bloody hell," came a voice behind him, and Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione arriving with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and a whole host of other students and teachers trailing along behind. "You did it, Harry!"

"We shall see," said Snape, moving into the room with his wand drawn, followed closely by the Headmaster.

Harry decided that was his cue to collapse, and he slid down the wall and blinked eyes gone dry and hot, too busy searching inside himself for any traces of Voldemort's evil presence. He felt exhausted, but also lighter, as though he'd finally shed some weight from his soul. "I think he's gone," said Harry, voice thin and hoarse.

"I think you were brilliant," said Myrtle dreamily, head poking out of the stone above Harry.

"I believe he is finally destroyed," said Dumbledore, turning to Harry with an expression of profound sadness. "I am sorry that you had to do what you did, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "I'm sorry, too, but I'm not sorry it's over," he said. His eyes found Snape's and saw approval there, and something like affection, though it might have been Harry's wishful thinking.

Then, reassured of his safety and surrounded by friends, he passed out cold.

* * *

When Harry awoke in the infirmary some hours later, he wasn't alone. Snape was sitting on the bed next to him while Madam Pomfrey spread salve on a nasty burn on his arm, one in a suspiciously familiar location.

"Will it scar?" asked Harry, the blackened skin fading to an angry red while he watched.

"If it does, it won't be recognisable as what it used to be," said Snape, sounding tired but satisfied. "That should be enough, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey gave him a look that suggested she knew quite well when it was enough, but she left them alone nonetheless, though she did get in a parting shot of, "Don't cover it until it's fully healed." As she moved away, Harry became aware that there were occupied beds around him, some hidden by screens, a few with nothing more than still shapes under sheets.

Snape rolled his eyes, but made no move to hide the swiftly-healing patch of skin. "While you were busy in your bathroom," said Snape amusedly, "the school was infiltrated by Death Eaters, who attacked in the Great Hall, presumably as a distraction from the- from Voldemort's true purpose."

"Did anyone... I mean, the students..." Harry tried to gather his thoughts, which still seemed to be shot through with clouds and a sense of endless sky.

"There were a few casualties, but more on their side than ours," said Snape darkly. "Voldemort tried to spread out the effects of your curse amongst his followers, but it was too strong in the end. Pettigrew was immolated along with him, and several lost arms or more to the fire."

"Why not you?" asked Harry, glancing down at the shiny-new patch of skin on Snape's forearm, barely larger than the Mark itself had been.

Snape shrugged eloquently and said, "I have a theory that it has to do with the extent to which the individuals allowed the Dark Lord into themselves." There was a pause. "Lucius Malfoy is hardly more burned than me, but Bellatrix is nothing but a pair of smoking boots at this point."

Harry felt a certain vicious satisfaction rise up in him, knowing he'd destroyed Sirius' killer, but it was swept away by a wave of sadness. "I've killed a lot of people now, haven't I?"

"Yes," said Snape, and something like pride shone in his eyes as he looked at Harry. "At least five, and the sixth will likely die within the day. Your curse is proving difficult to reverse, past a certain stage."

"Malfoy will scar," said Harry, with a sudden certainty. "He was mostly loyal to himself, but he has too much Darkness inside of him to fully heal."

"The same could be said of me," said Snape, sweeping a finger down over the smooth skin of his forearm, barely pinker than the rest now.

Harry shrugged. "I could never hurt you," he said, trying to pass it off as a joke, though again he felt the truth of it. "Who else?"

"Those _not_ on your conscience include Justin Finch-Fletchley and Alvin Chippens, both of whom perished in the first wave of attack," said Snape, with an absolute conviction that Harry felt imprinting on him in his open, floaty state of mind. "There are other injuries, but none that will be fatal. Marietta Edgecombe may not recover her sanity, Bellatrix seemed to find her disfigurement amusing." Snape nodded toward one of those still, sheet-draped forms. "She's been sedated, for now."

"Oh," said Harry, more sadness suffusing him, the clouds darkening inside him as though heavy with rain. "Will I? Recover, I mean," he asked, eyes guileless and trusting as he looked to Snape.

Snape blinked, then smoothed one salve-coated finger over Harry's scar, slipping into his mind with the ease of long practice. "He did some damage, as a parting gift," said Snape, voice like a cool wind blowing through Harry's head. "You should recover, though I doubt you'll ever manage Occlumency like that again."

"Oh," said Harry, closing his eyes, nestling up to the feeling of Snape inside of him, even if it wasn't the way he longed for. Images welled up of his fantasies, and Snape gently pushed them back down, ghostly fingers in Harry's head rebuilding something indefinable, until Harry felt almost normal again. "Thank you," he said, blinking as he felt Snape withdraw, both mentally and physically.

"You're stronger than you think," said Snape, busying himself with wiping the salve off his hand and arm with the sheet. The skin was perfect, as though there had never been an injury or a Mark either, smooth but not unnaturally so. "I simply accelerated the process already in motion."

"Thank you anyway," said Harry, feeling exasperation well up through the fog, dissipating it further. "I couldn't have done it without you, you know. Any of it."

Snape looked up, black eyes meeting Harry's, though without the push he'd come to expect, simple contact free of any magic besides the love Harry still felt for him, and the unfathomable emotion swimming in Snape's eyes. "You are welcome, Harry. Now, try to get some sleep while there is still peace to be had."

Harry's eyes dropped to Snape's mouth briefly, and when he dragged them back up he saw amusement in Snape's. "Yes, sir," said Harry in a slightly singsong voice, snuggling back up into the blankets after a sip of water. He paused, then added quietly, "No kiss goodnight?"

Snape chuckled and smoothed back Harry's fringe. "Perhaps next time."

Harry felt that it must have been his imagination that supplied, moments later, the sensation of soft lips against his forehead.

* * *

The infirmary was emptier the next time Harry woke, most of the still forms gone and only a few screens still up. Harry's bed was festooned with more cards and presents than the first time he'd awakened here, and when he sat up a tray appeared at his side bearing a covered plate, a pitcher of juice, and an envelope. Harry poured himself some juice and uncovered the food, finding mashed potatoes and beef in warm gravy with a side of green beans, a meal so typically Hogwarts that he felt an odd tugging of nostalgia as he nibbled at a bean. 

The envelope contained a letter from the Ministry, congratulating him on his achievements and offering both to waive his DADA NEWT and give him an Order of Merlin, and a note from Dumbledore advising him to take them up on both offers, and to come see him in his office after he finished eating and dressing. Harry fell to, and it wasn't until his second glass of pumpkin juice that he noticed the third bit of parchment someone had slipped under the edge of his plate.

He smiled when he opened it, recognising the handwriting at once.


	24. Between Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is reminded that, no matter what happens after he leaves school, he'll always have the friends he made there.

Harry stared at the canopy above his bed, feet dangling over the edge to keep his shoes off the covers and every single bone in his body aching with exhaustion. Four NEWTs, even with a break while everyone else was taking their Defense exams, were four too many, in his opinion. At least today was Saturday, the final Hogsmeade weekend before he left school entirely, and though that meant no etiquette lesson Harry was still grinning when they made the long, hot trudge down to Madame Rosmerta's for a cool drink.

"You'll be leaving us for my brothers again," said Ron, as they got in sight of the pub. Despite all the hints, Ron continued to believe that Harry met with them about the shop or for some other, completely innocuous reason.

"Naah, I doubt they'll bother this time," said Harry, mindful of Dumbledore's stated intention to stop those lessons as well.

Ron snorted. "Then why're they sitting outside the pub like a pair of dogs waiting for their owner?" he asked, pointing to where Harry could just now make out two familiar figures.

He felt his cheeks grow warm, and glanced from Ron to Hermione and back. "You won't, um, mind if I go off with them?" he asked. "I mean, you guys helped win, too, and we were going to celebrate finishing our NEWTs..."

Hermione got a bit pink, and Ron's eyes grew shifty. "It's all right, Harry," said Hermione, patting his arm. "Ron and I will be fine by ourselves."

Harry laughed. "Well, you get us some butterbeers for tonight, and we'll stake out the common room after dinner? We can tease the firsties who still have exams next week."

That got laughing agreement from them both, and then they were at the pub and Ron and Hermione pulled a vanishing act while Harry was being swept up in congratulatory hugs. "We hear you were too hot for You-Know-Who," said Fred, leering.

"Even got a few Death Eaters hot under the collar," said George, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders.

Harry shook his head and smiled ruefully. "I'm not sure you ought to be congratulating me on committing mass murder," he said, feeling that twinge of guilt that told him he was, as Snape put it, not particularly good at the whole murder thing. Harry preferred to think of it as being human, in the best of ways.

"We think we ought to be celebrating," said Fred, arm around Harry's waist and tugging him toward the rooms above the pub.

George's hand drifted down to Harry's arse. "You passed your exam and you're no longer our student," he explained, leering.

Harry blushed, but allowed himself to be led.

The hand moved up from arse to waist as they led him through the pub, making excuses about exclusive product endorsements that made Harry roll his eyes. "What makes you think I'd endorse you, anyway?" said Harry teasingly, as they got the door shut and four hands started to make short work of Harry's clothing.

"As our sole financier," said Fred with a smirk, hand diving into Harry's pants to cup his cock.

George's hand made its way down the back to tease at Harry's crease, and he said, "We thought you'd have a vested interest."

"I have a vested interest in getting you two naked," said Harry, shucking his shirt properly and stepping out of his shoes and socks.

They laughed, and Harry's trousers and pants were whisked away. "You don't like it like this?" asked Fred, sandwiching Harry between himself and his brother, their clothing rough against Harry's skin, their hands groping and fondling whatever was available, roaming over Harry's body proprietarily.

Harry moaned and melted just a little, but held stubbornly onto his sense of self, hands working at Fred's clothing while he pushed his arse back into the rough fabric of George's jeans. "I like it more without clothes," said Harry distractedly, sucking a mark on Fred's neck.

"Just the way we like you," said George, big hands moving to help disrobe Fred, then turning Harry around so he could do the same for George.

Soon enough they were all tumbled into the bed together, no more roles or teaching, just three naked men who cared for each other, friends and something like lovers. "You two," said Harry, gasping as their mouths roamed downward, George tasting his nipples and Fred nibbling down his spine, "make me almost wish I wasn't, god, saving myself."

They moaned in unison. "We almost wish you weren't, too," said Fred, licking at his tailbone.

"Then we could try to keep you for our own," said George, something in his voice that told Harry this wasn't just idle teasing. 

"You've got each other," said Harry with a gasp. "I c-can't compete with that." As he said it, he knew it was true -- even if things didn't work with Severus, he'd always be the third wheel among the twins, welcome but separate through no fault of anyone's. He moaned and added, "You wouldn't want me to have to."

"Truer words," said Fred, biting at the upper curve of Harry's arse.

"Were never spoken," finished George. That seemed to be their cue to both bite and keep biting, George at his nipples, chest and belly and Fred all over his arse and thighs, neither of them making any effort to speed their mouths to where Harry so very much wanted them, though he hoped they'd be a bit less bitey once they got there.

It was a measure of the control Harry had learned that he was aware enough to think or want that, and he grinned and put what mental faculties he'd managed to keep in the fog of lust and sensation to good use. "I think," said Harry, squirming out of their grasp and turning himself around until he was on his back with his head between their hips, "that I need something to keep my big mouth shut."

They laughed and leaned in, pricks duelling right over Harry's face and Harry reached up with hands and tongue to caress the tempting lengths. It was strange, now, finding perfectly normal ways to revel in the unique experience of having twin lovers, after all the amazing kinks they'd explored together in the name of his lessons. He loved the way they looked the same at first, but he'd started to be able to recognise the curve in Fred's cock, upward and slightly to one side, compared to the arrow-straightness of George's that was sometimes harder to get down his throat. Their skin tasted almost the same, though Harry noticed for the first time that George's bollocks were naked as a boy's while Fred's still had their light sprinkling of red fuzz.

"What's this all about, then?" asked Harry, moving in to nuzzle and finding the skin exquisitely soft, the texture like crepe silk but with little nubs as well where the hairs would grow back in.

"Want to find out?" said Fred, licking at Harry's balls while George moaned at the stimulation, his face resting in the curve of Harry's hip.

Harry let out a whimper and sucked one of the round morsels into his mouth gently, giving him a moment to try to gather his thoughts before he let it go with a wet pop. "Do you think Severus would like it?"

Harry was surprised when George blushed and Fred laughed. "He does, that's why we're staying like this."

"Though we might trade off, if Fred figures out how nice it feels," added George with a sheepish grin.

"Snape enjoys the contrast in having one of each," added Fred, fingers lifting and tugging Harry's sac.

George grinned. "We can show you a charm to keep them smooth, once we've shaved you."

Harry blushed, then shook his head. "Not this time," he said, squirming at the thought of it being some other, later time, him tied and trying not to squirm while they touched him intimately with something so sharp. "I want, oh, want him to have me as is the first time," said Harry, stuttering as George began to suck a mark on his hip.

"Another time," said Fred, eyes hot and something else, almost possessive as they took in Harry's body.

Fred's mouth descended the length of Harry's cock before he could form a reply, and instead he put his limited attention to use sucking one and then the other of their cocks. His lips weren't quite able to stretch around both, especially at this angle, but he kept one hand leisurely stroking whichever prick he wasn't sucking on, all of it idle play intended to excite his lovers but not get them off.

The twins, on the other hand, were working hard to get Harry off, Fred's mouth sucking rhythmically while George's wandered as best it could. Finally Harry's leg was lifted out of the way so George could get a better angle, and his tongue returned to Harry's very favourite place to have it, his greedy entrance. It didn't take long after that for Harry to come, his world going white and pleasure-static for an endless row of heartbeats before he came back down. He pressed a kiss to the top of each cock in turn, and then grinned down to Fred and George. "What now?" he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Now," said Fred, once he pulled away from Harry's toppled cock.

"It's our turn," said George, grinning up from between Harry's legs.

Harry couldn't wait.

* * *

Once the NEWTs were done, there was another week left of OWLs, and regular exams for those students lucky enough not to be in fifth or seventh year. Harry's time was spent in a series of "career workshops", which mostly seemed to consist of people telling them either why their field was desperately in need of fresh young minds, or why their job was nasty, difficult, and didn't want him anyway. Harry emerged Friday afternoon from a lecture on his complete unsuitability for the dying art of kneazle haberdashery feeling drained and no more certain of what he wanted than he had at the start of the week.

Other than Severus, of course.

Despite the temptation presented by the twins, Harry's eyes and heart were constantly drawn to Snape like a compass needle to North. He'd done everything asked of him, from Occlumency lessons to killing Voldemort to NEWTs, and he was starting to feel that a chance with Severus was the only reward truly wanted for any of it.

When a school owl winged down to his plate during dinner, Harry snagged its letter with excitement, hoping to find inside a clue to the contents of his penultimate etiquette lesson, which Snape had refused to discuss with him last time they'd had a moment alone. In fact, Harry hadn't actually been able to steal any time alone with Snape in almost three weeks now, having missed etiquette lessons for Hogsmeade and, the week before, for NEWT preparation.

He opened the letter and his heart dropped into his stomach when he saw, not Snape's familiar writing, but Dumbledore's.

_Harry,_

_The Minister wishes to meet with you tomorrow afternoon for tea, to discuss your future plans and the scheduling of the Order of Merlin ceremony. Come to my office at three so we may have a conversation before he arrives. The password is "Cheering Creams."_

_There is no need to worry about your lesson with Professor Snape, I have taken the liberty of cancelling it for you._

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

There seemed a wealth of hidden meaning in the letter to Harry, now that he'd been trained to see it, and he sent a stricken glance to Snape, who seemed determined not to look his way even once. Harry swallowed and tried not to take that as an omen, feeding bites of his dinner to the owl who was far more interested in it than Harry was just at the moment.

"Hermione, do you have any parchment?" he asked, after a few minutes of brooding. Snape had taught him epistolary courtship and now, it seemed, Harry was going to have a chance to use it rather earlier than he'd expected.

"Of course," she said, handing him a small roll and a self-inking quill. "What's your owl about?"

"I get to meet with the Minister instead of Snape tomorrow, apparently," said Harry bitterly, which got him a curious look from Neville and a snort from Ron.

Ron made the effort to swallow, then patted Harry on the back. "Don't worry, mate, I'm sure nothing better's come along for that git."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Gee, thanks," he said, and Hermione kicked Ron under the table.

With a smile on his face and a few more nibbles of his steak and kidney pie, Harry set to work on his missive.

* * *

"You're wearing one of your new robes, I see," said Dumbledore cheerfully, beckoning Harry inside.

Harry ventured in and sat, fidgeting with his watch-chain since tea wouldn't be served for a while yet. "Yes, Headmaster," he said politely, smoothing down the fine fabric. He was wearing the fancy suit set, the ones that reminded him of Snape's, though in a deep burgundy with a subtle gold pinstripe rather than unrelenting black. "Professor Snape was very good to me this summer, along with the twins, and they helped me choose some suitable wizarding clothes."

Something sharp went through Dumbledore's normally placid gaze, and Harry steeled himself for a conversation he probably didn't want to have. "Have you discussed your career options with Professor Snape as well?"

"No, sir, he won't let me," said Harry. "I have an appointment with Professor McGonagall on Monday, and the twins have offered to let me help in the shop until I decide, if I want to."

Dumbledore's eyebrows went up, and Harry felt a flash of bitter gratification that there were, in fact, some things the old meddler didn't know. "I must admit I didn't expect you to be so prepared," he said.

Harry smirked, knowing he'd picked the expression up from his time with Snape and not caring one whit. "Now that I know I'm likely to survive past eighteen, it seemed like a good idea to think past tomorrow."

"Did you ever reason out the purpose of your watch?" said Dumbledore, apparently out of the blue.

Harry lifted it out of its pocket and smoothed his fingers over the delicately etched case. "Some of the things, not all of them yet." He laughed. "That's how I found Voldemort, you know, I was following the arrows on the sixth setting."

Dumbledore laughed, but Harry didn't have a chance to find out why that was so funny, because just then the Floo sounded and Fudge stepped into the room. "Mr. Potter, Headmaster Dumbledore," he said formally, dusting himself off. "It is a pleasure to see you doing so well, my boy," he added, stepping forward to catch Harry's hand and shake it vigorously.

"Thank you," said Harry dubiously. Fudge's dignity seemed intact, and he was impeccably dressed from his lime-green bowler to his impeccably shined shoes. Harry swallowed another dose of bitterness that the man who had tried to ruin Harry's life in his fifth year would be congratulating him on holding onto it now.

"Shall I ring for tea?" said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Yes, of course, of course," said Fudge, pulling up another chair and sitting disturbingly close to Harry. "Now, my boy, I was thinking we might do the Order of Merlin ceremony here at Hogwarts, the afternoon of your Leaving Feast."

"Will you be giving medals to anyone else?" asked Harry, trying to make it sound more curious than pointed.

Fudge's smile faltered a bit, but he puffed right back up. "Of course! I'm sure there are several people who we ought to be honouring, I hear it was quite a battle."

"I couldn't have done it without Professor Snape," said Harry. "Or Neville Longbottom, and even Moaning Myrtle helped out."

If Snape's name had displeased Fudge, Myrtle's only confused him. "I'm afraid I don't know of that last?"

"She's the ghost of the girl who was killed in the school 50 years ago," said Dumbledore. Somehow, a full tea had sprouted on his desk when Harry wasn't looking, and his hands were busy preparing plates and cups for everyone. "By Tom Riddle, when he opened the Chamber of Secrets the first time around."

"Ah," said Fudge. "Well, I'll have to look into provisions for honouring ghosts, but of course the other two will definitely get," he paused to clear his throat, "something."

Harry managed not to smirk at him too much. "I would appreciate that," he said innocently. "I'm sure the Headmaster can give you a list of those who fought downstairs, too, I wasn't there to see but I've been told several students and faculty acquitted themselves quite well."

"I believe I sent a detailed account of the incident to the Minister at the time it happened," said Dumbledore. "I am certain he can determine the appropriate accolades from the information in that account."

"And that's a good reason to do it at school, too," said Harry. "The ceremony, I mean. Since he'd be honouring more than just me, and I'm not sure if Myrtle can leave."

"An excellent point," said Fudge, looking a bit smug now that he was assured of getting at least part of what he wanted.

Dumbledore levitated a small tray over to each of them, containing a plate of scones and pasties, a cup of tea prepared as they each preferred, and a small split dish of jam and clotted cream. "This looks delicious, thank you, Headmaster," said Harry, mindful of the manners that Severus had spent a year drilling into him.

"You're very welcome, my boy," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling as though he, too, had gotten something he wanted.

"Now," said Fudge, sitting back with his teacup in hand and a look of calculation on his features, "have you decided what you want to do when you leave school, Harry?"

Harry had to suppress the strong urge to call the Minister by his first name, and he took a sip of his tea to cover it, finding it mostly to his liking though inferior to Severus'. "Not at all," he replied cheerfully, taking a moment to put jam and cream on one of the still-warm scones. "I'm planning to get advice from those I trust. And wait for my NEWT results, of course."

"Of course," said Fudge, his tone approaching oily. "You are welcome to come to me if you have any questions, my door is always open."

"Well," said Harry, nibbling on his scone to give him time to think, "I think I've ended up with neither the NEWTs nor the inclination to become an Auror, and I know I'm not suited for politics, so I doubt I will find a place in the Ministry."

Fudge sipped his tea and looked thoughtful again, and Harry imagined he could almost hear the click and whirr of wheels moving in his head. "You will always be an important public figure," said Fudge.

"Not if I can help it," replied Harry, before Fudge could finish his thought. He wondered if this was what it felt like, to be pursued by an unwelcome suitor who didn't know when to take a hint.

Fudge blinked owlishly, as though that were the very last thing he'd expected to hear Harry say. "No one would argue that you hadn't earned the adulation," he said after a moment.

Harry shrugged and ate the last bite of his scone, then sipped his tea. It was Dumbledore who came to his rescue, and who, by Fudge's expression, had been momentarily forgotten. "Harry has never particularly enjoyed the trappings of fame," he said. "I believe he even gave away his Triwizard winnings."

Harry looked up in surprise; he hadn't thought anyone but the three of them knew about the money. "It's been a good investment," said Harry with a shrug. "I have enough money in my vaults that I don't need to work right away, anyway."

That seemed to pique a different sort of interest in Fudge, and Harry groaned inwardly. "Vaults?" he asked, "I wasn't aware you had more than one."

"My godfather left me something when he passed away," said Harry. "I haven't had time to sort it all out, really, but I've been assured by several people I trust that it's enough to sustain me for a while."

Dumbledore smiled at them both. "That will be a welcome luxury for you, I am sure," he said, changing the subject somewhat pointedly. "Cornelius, do you know how many additional people we will be expected to accommodate for the medal ceremony?"

They began to discuss details, which gave Harry the opportunity to eat most everything on his plate, accompanied by the tea that never seemed to get empty no matter how much he drank. In the end, Harry got through the rest of the visit with a few polite comments and, while he did have to promise to wear his best formal robes and give a short speech at the ceremony, he managed to avoid any sort of commitment regarding his future past that date.

He drank yet more of the overly sweet tea, and decided it was a compromise he could live with.

* * *

When Harry got back up to his room, he found Hedwig perched at the foot of his bed with a letter in her mouth. Harry exchanged it for a handful of treats scrounged out of his trunk, and he spent a few moments petting and feeding her before allowing himself to open it.

_Dear Harry,_

_You should really visit your owl more often; they are the most loyal and useful of magical pets, but their affection can falter if you do not bolster it with regular attention. She must be starved for company if she is willing to do errands for someone as disagreeable as myself._

_I regret that my end-of-term responsibilities will keep me from making time for an etiquette lesson. I will not be able attend dinner in the Great Hall tonight, as I am working on a very complex potion in my laboratory and it is at a delicate stage, unable to be left alone. Given the short time left before the students depart, I will be unable to complete your education in etiquette before you leave school._

_I trust your meeting with the Minister went well, and that you accepted no offers without first consulting at least the Headmaster. I find myself as curious as anyone with regards to your final career decision, but I feel we will all be left wondering for some time yet. It has never been like you to make your choices on anyone's time but your own._

_Remember the advice I gave you upon reaching your majority, and that my door is open to you._

_Yours,  
Severus Snape_

Crushing disappointment hit Harry first, but he forced himself to think past it, to set aside his feelings of doubt and rejection and read the letter again the way he'd been taught. First the references to visiting Hedwig and bolstering their relationship with attention, which could also be referring to the length of time that had passed since Harry had last been to see Snape. Then, Snape gave him specific details about a time and place he would not only be alone, but in need of something which Harry could provide -- dinner. The bit about the Minister contained both curiosity and a cynicism that Harry was long familiar with. The final two lines swept away the last of Harry's dismay, first reminding him of the card and love token it contained, and then making a subtle declaration -- Yours.

Harry felt a small swelling of hope, and he spent several more minutes petting and spoiling Hedwig before he put the feeling into action. It was, after all, the least he could do.

* * *

Knowing the house elves would be busy until dinner was over, Harry lingered over his meal, picking it to bits long after his appetite had fled. He kept fingering the note, which he'd stuffed into his pocket when Lavender got too curious, and answering questions with noncommittal grunts. Finally Hermione stood up, exasperated, and said, "We'll never get anything out of him, Ron, you know how he is when he's got lessons with Snape."

"I'd sulk if I had to take extra lessons with that greasy git, too," said Ron, as much out of habit as anything else. They both knew Harry didn't really mind the lessons, or the reason for them, especially now that he was completely forbidden from practising Occlumency.

Noticing finally that most of the other students had left while Harry was massacring his treacle tart, Harry got up and made his way, not down to the kitchens just yet, but instead to his dorm room and then the showers. He wanted to look his best tonight, so he wore the grey trousers that flattered his arse so very well, and the green silk shirt. In a fit of optimism, he even coaxed the bracelet of snakes out of their dusty box and onto his left wrist, though they stayed mostly hidden under his sleeve.

His hair still damp from the shower, Harry skipped down the steps, neatly avoiding the gathering in the common room with a wave and then making his way down to the kitchens. He tickled the pear and found himself practically humming with excitement as the painting swung open to reveal the kitchen, still full of the hustle and bustle of cleaning house elves.

"Harry Potter! Harry Potter!" came the squeaky chorus. One house elf in particular detached himself from the group and came over to inquire, "What can Woodle be doing for Harry Potter?"

Harry grinned down at the elf in his immaculate Hogwarts-crested tea towel and said, "I'd like a substantial tea for two, in crockery that's safe for Professor Snape's private potions laboratory. Everything's got to have a cover on."

"Woodle is knowing just what to bring for Harry Potter! Woodle quick will be fixing and bringing up a treat for Professor Snape and Harry Potter." The house elf practically quivered with excitement, and Harry thanked him and left, feeling as though that, at least, was in good hands.

Harry had grown familiar with the dungeons over the last year, having come down twice a week for supplementary lessons as well as his usual Potions classes. Snape's private laboratory was separate from his quarters, closer to the classroom, and Harry quickly navigated the corridors to it, hoping to beat Woodle and their tea.

When he got to the door, it was closed, locked and heavily warded. Harry laid a careful hand on the door, gently inserting himself into the wards rather than jarring them -- and possibly Snape at a crucial moment -- by knocking.

Harry was surprised to find them keyed to him; the door swung open silently at his touch, admitting him into the darkened room. "Close the door, I don't want anything disturbing the fires," said Snape absently as Harry came in, his hands occupied with chopping while he watched intently over the bubbling cauldron. The fire beneath it was, oddly, the only light in the room, and it glowed eerily blue.

"Woodle will be up in a few with tea, is there a spot I can clear for it?" Harry said, quite used to Snape's manner at this point. For all his talk of etiquette, he rarely offered much courtesy unless he stood something to gain from the effort.

"The farthest bench," said Snape, waving the glinting silver knife in its direction.

"Is there some reason you're working in the dark?" Harry asked, picking his way past stools and clutter to the far end of the room. This bench was disused and slightly dusty, with nothing more than a few scattered scrolls and scraps of parchment littering the surface.

Snape glanced up, face an unreadable mask in the strange lighting. "The sun went down at a crucial time and I haven't had a moment to light the torches," he said, his voice echoing oddly in the irregularly shaped room.

"So I can light them, and it'll be all right?" said Harry, carefully stacking the scrolls and parchment to one side and looking around the gloom for a rag to dust with. "And can I cast a cleaning spell, or will that interfere?"

"Yes to the torches, but no cleaning spells. You'll only kick up dust and ruin my day's work," said Snape, too distracted to chastise Harry properly.

"Yes, sir," said Harry cheekily, going around the room and lighting the torches crammed in the tiny bits of free wall between laden shelves. The familiar flickering yellow glow warmed the room up considerably, and Harry looked around curiously. He'd not had a chance to spend time in here before, only having seen it once when he'd been sent to fetch Snape for the Headmaster.

"If you think you can manage not to mangle things, I could use a hand," said Snape tersely, carefully dropping the chopped roots into the cauldron, which briefly gave off gold sparks before settling into a deep, glowing orange.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, slightly more serious this time, "But I'd like to at least wipe down this table before the food arrives."

Snape grunted and waved his hand, face buried in the mouldering book he had propped on the other side of the cauldron. Harry took a moment to admire the strong features without being observed, then caught himself and looked about for a cloth instead. He spotted a stack of clean towels over by a sink, practically hemmed in by jars, boxes and bottles of strange and mysterious ingredients, all labelled with Snape's distinctive handwriting.

The entire room was like that, bookshelves crammed first with books, then strange objects perched along the small ledge that remained, and everywhere he looked there were samples of spidery script. Harry rolled up his sleeves, sparing a wince for the obviousness of the bracelet, then shrugged and wet the towel, wiping the table down carefully, with a minimum of dust getting into the air. He rinsed rag and hands in the sink, then dried off on a clean one and came over to stand next to Snape.

"What've you got for me?" he said, looking curiously at the book, which appeared to be in another language.

Snape tutted softly, quite possibly at Harry's phrasing, and said, "Grind seven scarab beetles to a fine powder, and then and only then add seven dung beetles, which should be crushed coarsely so the parts are coated in scarab powder."

Harry was suddenly very glad he'd revised so enthusiastically for his Potions NEWT -- this was obviously a very advanced potion, having ingredients mixed so precisely even before they went into the cauldron. Very few things at student level required such care. "Right," said Harry, looking amongst the ingredients on the table.

Snape sighed, looking up from his work for the first time. Harry was mildly shocked at how haggard he looked, hair even greasier than usual and dark circles under red eyes. "Both kinds of beetles will be in the third corner, second cabinet. You can find a clean mortar and pestle beneath the second bench."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, this time completely devoid of sarcasm. He hurried to find the ingredients and tools he'd need, right where Snape had described.

Snape glanced up while Harry was looking for a place to work, rolled his eyes and pulled a second stool over next to his own. "Here, Potter."

Harry was getting rather tired of sounding like a solider as he said, "Yes, sir," quietly and settled onto the stool, acutely aware that he was mere inches from Snape. The man who Harry planned to seduce in approximately a week, presuming Snape would have him. For whom Harry's admiration had only grown as he saw past the bitterness and sarcasm to the dry wit and intelligence they hid. A man whose body always seemed to radiate warmth and solidity nowadays, whose hands had never ceased to fascinate him. Not to mention his feet, which were hidden as usual though still vivid in Harry's imagination.

Harry caught himself staring again, and busied himself carefully counting out seven scarabs, making sure the dry, brittle things still had all their legs before carefully crushing them with the marble pestle. Snape's personal tools were heavy and fine, cool to the touch but comfortable in his hands. He let his mind drift on the rhythm of his grinding, perfectly aware that turning large beetles into fine powder was a long and tedious job.

Harry sifted through his memories of Snape, starting from his very first impression of him sitting at the high table, glaring down at them. His thoughts wandered through the years, misapprehensions and finally the slow dawning of realization, ending inevitably in his trousers as he thought ahead to next week, and all the things he hoped Snape would do to him.

"That should be sufficient," said Snape sharply, drawing Harry out of his reverie, accompanied by a blush and an inappropriate erection.

Harry looked down at the fine powder in the mortar and nodded. "Seven dung beetles, then?" he asked, opening their jar and pulling one out carefully.

"Yes, coarsely crushed, not ground, and well-coated with the powder," said Snape. He turned his attention from Harry to the pipette he was using to add a steady flow of droplets into the cauldron, of something that looked like blood, though he couldn't guess at what species.

Harry examined each beetle carefully for completeness, setting one aside that had lost a pair of legs at some point, and then used the pestle to just crush the brittle things, then gently stirring the resultant shards into the powder until everything was coated, glittering blue-black covering the shiny brown carapaces. "How's this?" asked Harry, tilting the bowl in Snape's direction.

"Adequate," said Snape, glancing over briefly. "Put it here and bring me a cup of tea, if you would," he added, pointing to a gap in the neat line of ingredients he had going beside the cauldron.

Harry glanced over to see that the food had arrived while he was woolgathering, and he grinned. "Yes, sir, a snack as well? Woodle sent everything in covered crockery for us."

Snape grunted, and Harry took that as an affirmative, going over to make up two teacups -- even they had covers, in the Chinese fashion -- according to each of their preferences. The first pot he uncovered contained a small cottage pie, with a slot in the lid to accommodate a spoon. Harry juggled all three things and got them over to the bench Snape was working at, which had mysteriously developed another empty spot at the end furthest from the cauldron. "Your tea, and food," said Harry, setting them a touch closer to Snape and cradling his own cup, warming hands that were reminding him of how very little they appreciated the work of grinding.

Snape made another noncommital noise, but Harry couldn't blame him. He had to drip a single drop of fluid into the centre of each leaf of what Harry thought was chocolate mint, and then float the whole thing on top of the cauldron one at a time, according to a rhythm Harry couldn't quite discern but was certain had some vital purpose. Harry sipped his tea and watched, reflecting on the passion that Snape and the twins all showed for potions, and his own slowly growing fondness for the art of them. "I'll never be as good at this as you," he said, once the last leaf was sinking slowly into the depths of the potion.

"It takes years of practice," said Snape, already moving on to the next ingredient, which proved to be Harry's beetles. Snape removed the pestle and held the heavy mortar poised, waiting for some subtle cue before dumping in the lot in one go, then snagging a glass stirring rod and counting out thirteen smooth widdershins circles. He set the rod aside, flipped a small hourglass, and turned his full attention to Harry for the first time that night. "Tea?" he asked hopefully.

"Right here," said Harry, pointing to the cup. "And food, because you can't skip dinner, you're already thin as a rail."

Snape chuckled, and Harry saw a glimpse of his Severus like a flash of minnow under the surface of a pond. He uncapped the tea and took first a deep whiff, and then a sip, sighing in pleasure. "If I have accomplished nothing else in our time together," he said, "at least I have taught you to make a decent cup of tea."

Harry refrained from pointing out that the house elves had done most of the work. "Or at least to make it as you like it, which isn't quite the same thing," he teased, sipping his own tea, light and sweet as always.

Snape smirked. "In this instance," he said, looking amused, "I will take what I can get, and sod the rest of them."

That got a laugh out of Harry, and he nearly snorted his tea, barely managing to swallow in time. "I hope that attitude extends until next Saturday," said Harry, eyes twinkling.

Snape's gaze grew shuttered, though he didn't entirely close Harry out. "I will remind you that next Saturday, you will no longer be a student at this school, nor under my authority."

It was Harry's turn to smirk. "That's what I'm counting on."

Snape declined to rise to the bait, instead choosing that moment to explore the contents of the little crock, making a pleased sound and digging in when he discovered the cottage pie hiding inside. "You always did have a way with house elves," he said between bites.

"I think they secretly like you," said Harry with a chuckle. "They always send up better stuff when I mention your name."

"Who can fathom the mind of a house elf?" said Snape philosophically. A few more neat bites and the small pie was demolished, and the tea along with it. "I will have another break in approximately seventeen minutes, if you'd care to bring me another snack then," said Snape, moving back over to the potion. 

The sand was nearly run out of the hourglass, and the potion itself had turned from its former electric blue to a more placid shade that reminded Harry of a clear sky at dusk. As soon as the last grain had dropped to the bottom of the glass, Snape had the glass rod back in and was stirring clockwise this time, another thirteen precise circles. Harry could admit that, while he found the it tedious to make potions himself, he found it fascinating to watch Snape balance the delicate dance of ingredients and timing.

"What're you making, anyway?" asked Harry, lingering over the rest of his own cup of tea.

"Starsight Solution, for Professor Sinistra," said Snape distractedly. His voice continued to lecture while his hands worked, which Harry found disturbingly sexy. "It enhances the sight to better enable viewing of stars in a nighttime setting. It has a threefold effect to enhance sensitivity to light, broaden the spectrum that the viewer can perceive, and allow the viewer to see much greater distances. It is quite complex as well as the cause of many foolish Astronomy-related accidents, and is therefore highly regulated."

Snape was carefully hand-shredding some sort of small leaves into the cauldron now, careful not to get any of the stems in the mixture, and it filled the room with a bright, fresh scent. Next were a variety of eyes which were dropped in along a bewilderingly precise pattern, in an order only Snape understood. Harry forced down the rest of his tea, now reminded why he didn't usually eat or drink while brewing, and took the opportunity to remove the dishes from Snape's workbench and explore the rest of the house elves' generosity.

They'd brought a second cottage pie -- in fact there was two of everything -- bowls of bite-sized raw vegetables, covered plates of biscuits, and small platters of chicken and fried potatoes. Harry contented himself with another cup of tea and a biscuit, and, after a glance to be sure that Snape was done with the eyeballs, came back to join him. "Need me for anything else?" he asked, nibbling carefully, mindful of the crumbs.

Snape chuckled, and for a moment Harry thought he heard an echo of that possessive sensuality Snape had allowed himself to show a time or two. "That's a very leading question, but no, not for the potion. Most of the ingredients are already prepared."

Harry laughed and fell silent again, watching Snape work, his fingers deft and movements sure, no room for hesitation or doubt in a potion such as this one. Harry nursed his tea through a few more ingredients, taking in the shadows under Snape's eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and the lank swing of hair gone greasy once again with neglect. Harry's eyes followed the lines of Snape's body in the flickering torchlight, the way his chest and shoulders filled out his robes, the bare hint of lean muscle that Harry knew was hiding under the many layers.

"Do you still wear it?" blurted Harry, mind wandering too far ahead to keep his mouth in check.

Snape paused in dicing the lotus root for a fraction of a second before resuming, and he nodded. "It is a good gift for a man with enemies," he said, and his fingers brushed over the front of his robes before he scattered the white cubes into the cauldron. Harry cocked his head, realising the gesture seemed familiar, one he'd seen Snape make many times this year and always assumed had something to do with the row of buttons his fingers brushed along, rather than anything beneath.

Harry grinned. "I'm glad," he said, fingers going to stroke the snake bracelet, which moved under his touch.

"I will pause again after this ingredient," said Snape, changing the subject abruptly.

"Oh. Oh, right!" said Harry. He hopped down from the stool and went over to the far table, making up two more cups of tea, which he carried carefully after sending the platter of chicken gently levitating over toward Snape.

"I see you've finally mastered your first year charms," said Snape, stirring this time in the figure-eights he often preferred.

Harry snorted. "At least I didn't get chicken in your... is that powdered bone?"

"Powdered bones of an eagle," said Snape, setting his stirring rod aside once more and resetting the hourglass, which seemed to Harry to be going much more slowly this time.

"Well, anyway, they're still chicken-free," said Harry with a laugh.

Snape rolled his eyes and cast a barrier spell, erecting a small glowing wall between their food and the last few ingredients still sitting out. "And now they'll stay that way," he said, lifting up the cover and setting it to float nearby. He picked up a drumstick and paused, catching Harry's eye. "Thank you for bringing this to me, and for staying," he said.

Harry felt warm down to his toes all of a sudden, despite the slight chill of the room. "You're very welcome, Severus," he replied. "I'm always happy to help out a friend."

Snape raised his eyebrow at that, but didn't argue the choice of words; whatever happened with them, Harry thought, perhaps this was a sign that they had more going on than tutoring and lust.

Harry just wasn't sure what, and he wasn't any more sure when he left a while later, banished back to Gryffindor Tower with a rare smile and even rarer pass to keep Filch from deducting any points for the late hour.

* * *

"Oi, how'd it go, mate?" asked Ron, when Harry made his way through the portrait hole. Ron and Hermione had claimed the good seats closest to the fire, along with most of the rest of the seventh years. In fact most of the Common Room was still quite full of students, all celebrating the fact that OWLs and exams alike were finally over, and they had just one week left until they'd all be going home, some of them for good.

"Well, I think," said Harry, flopping down next to Ron in the space they'd made for him.

Neville grinned. "I can't imagine an evening with S-Snape ever going well," he said with a chuckle, "but you survived your summer with him, so maybe it's just part of the whole Harry Potter mystique."

Harry blushed a bit, though he covered it with a laugh; he hadn't known the others knew where he'd been spending so much of his time. "He's not so bad once you get to know him."

"Oi, are you wearing a token?" asked Seamus, and Harry's blush grew ten times brighter. He'd completely forgotten to even roll his sleeves back down, let alone remove the incriminating bracelet.

Harry glanced around the room and then nodded shyly. "Some people know, but we're trying to keep it quiet for now," he said, rolling his sleeves down belatedly.

"Oh, how romantic!" said Lavender, predictably.

Harry tried not to roll his eyes. "I suppose it could be considered that way," he said, aware that it sounded like something Snape would say. "I just don't want to see what Rita Skeeter has to say about it."

Dean flinched. "Wow, yeah, that would be spectacularly bad, huh?"

Everyone nodded sympathetically, and then Hermione spoke up, "So if you'd all keep it to yourselves a while longer?"

They all agreed, and Harry relaxed a fraction, though he'd have to tell Snape and Dumbledore about this new breach of secrecy. "Snape's been giving me these lessons, you know, all the proper etiquette so I don't make an arse of myself in the real world."

That got a laugh, and Harry couldn't help but join in. It did seem kind of absurd, to be learning manners from Snape, but the man that Harry saw during his lessons was a world away from the one he'd known during his first six years at Hogwarts. "He knows his stuff, he just doesn't waste it on us lot," said Harry with a shrug and a little laugh. "I mean really, would you?"

That got more laughing, and started Neville talking about the last disaster he'd had in Potions before thankfully dropping the class after OWLs, which got them all reminiscing about the past seven years, and promising to write and visit though, Harry thought, some more sincerely than others.

"We won't lose touch, right?" said Ron almost wistfully.

"Naah," said Harry, giving him a playful shove with his shoulder. "Where would I get jumpers at Christmas?"

"None of us are destined to move to Romania any time soon, anyway," said Ron with a laugh, obviously thinking of his older brothers.

Harry nudged him again, more gently this time. "At least Bill's back in London, and Percy's talking again," Harry said. "And Charlie visits when he can."

"It's weird, you know, I never thought I liked Percy that much, but it's really good to have him back," said Ron, and that made Harry feel warm, and a bit guilty for not writing Percy recently. Percy's last letter had been full of career advice that was, while sound, not particularly applicable to Harry's situation, so Harry had been avoiding his reply.

"He's a good bloke," said Harry with a shrug.

"Oh, are you two thinking of dating?" asked Parvati with a sigh.

Harry laughed and shook his head. "No, we're not, um," he floundered, trying to think of a good way to phrase it.

Surprisingly, it was Ron who came to his rescue. "Percy's a left-hander, just like Harry. It'd never work."

They all laughed, and Harry squirmed some more as he got a few more speculative glances at the now-hidden bracelet. He liked the principle of the left/right system, but he wasn't sure he really needed Dean and Seamus to know that he was going to be the girl in his gay relationship, which he was sure was how they were picturing it.

They moved back off the subject again and onto other news, staying up long into the night until there was only Ron, Hermione, Neville and Harry left in the deserted Common Room.

"So," said Neville, giving Harry's wrist a nudge, "is it Snape, then?"

Harry had a moment of blind panic, but Hermione came to his rescue. "It's not anyone while Harry's at school, that's why he doesn't wear the token," she explained.

Harry nodded. "I just have it for lessons," he explained. He pushed up his sleeve and whispered Parseltongue to the snakes until they moved aside enough for him to pull the offending jewelry off, then asked shyly, "What would you guys think if I said I might want it to be Snape, after I leave school?"

Neville, surprisingly, was the first to speak up. "I'd think that you're pretty brave, and probably know something about him that I don't and," he said, holding up his hand, "really don't want to know, please."

That surprised a laugh out of Ron, who agreed wholeheartedly. "Yeah, I can handle you seeing Snape as long as you don't tell me about it in any kind of detail."

"You two just have no intellectual curiosity," said Hermione with a sniff.

"I won't be telling you, either," said Harry.

She looked disappointed enough that Harry was suddenly glad the object of his affections would object to her curiosity about their love life even more vehemently than Harry.

"But you'll still be my friends, and owl and visit and stuff?" asked Harry, a touch anxiously.

"Yeah, of course," said Ron immediately, giving him enough of a shoulder-nudge to send him colliding with Neville.

Neville shoved back, but he was grinning as he did it. "After I helped you kill V-voledmort, you're never getting rid of me."

"And of course I respect your taste in partners, Harry, no matter how eccentric," said Hermione.

They all laughed at that, and Harry reflected that it was good to have friends of all sorts. Even the nosy ones.

* * *

_Dear Percy,_

_Thank you for your last letter. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write back, but as I'm sure you remember, it's been a very hectic end of term. They waived my DADA NEWT, so I only had four to revise for, but that was plenty -- I'm not like you, ready to take on every subject and more. Etiquette was a difficult enough lesson to add to my schedule, though I've been forced to drop the other and I don't miss it in the least._

Harry paused in his writing, nibbling on the end of his quill and making a face. Percy would appreciate that it was practice if Harry scattered some innuendo in there, but he also had to be careful -- Percy would take it almost as badly as Ron to learn that Harry had been having a third set of extra lessons from his twin brothers. Harry set aside the idea of subtlety and instead decided to just write to Percy without worrying about the rest of it for once.

_Your advice was quite sound, and I'll take it into account if I consider a career with the Ministry. It's looking less likely, though; I find I'm tired of trying to catch the bad guys, so Auror is out, and the rest all sounds like dull paperwork to me, I'm afraid. I'm utterly without ambition in any field right now, so I'll probably take at least the summer off to wait for my NEWT results and decide what I really want to do with the rest of my life._

_I'll be living you know where after school's out, and my door is always open. Come by for tea sometime and maybe we can talk about the other options; they seem kind of ridiculous to me right now, I mean, who really wants to become an apprentice kneazle haberdasher?_

_I hear that Artemis and Bartholomew had another dinner party to introduce you to some of their other friends. I can't wait to hear how that turned out, so don't keep me in suspense! I know I'm pants at writing letters, but you're not allowed to follow my bad example this time, or I'll tell your mum you secretly confessed a fondness for pink next time she's thinking of knitting you a jumper._

_Sincerely yours,  
Harry_

Harry put the letter in an envelope and sealed it up, then snagged the napkin full of bacon and toast he'd saved for Hedwig and headed up to the owlery. Hedwig always enjoyed visiting Percy, or more specifically Hermes; though they were different species of owl, they'd made friends here at Hogwarts and she had stayed fond of him over the years. 

Harry chuckled and wondered if that was a lesson he'd be able to put into practise for himself.


	25. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the year has finally arrived, and it's time for Harry to see just what it is Snape wants from him -- and if he enjoys giving it as much as he hopes.

Harry stripped off his formal robes and silently vowed never to do anything to earn himself a medal from the Ministry ever again. "If you don't hurry, you'll miss the Feast," said Ron heartlessly while Harry shimmied into his clothes. The Seventh Years wouldn't be wearing student robes tonight, and Harry wanted to look good but not too formal, so he donned the simple burgundy robes he'd last worn at his mock-courtship dinner with Snape and the twins. A few adjustments and a change of footwear, and he was ready to go.

"How do I look?" he asked, eyeing Ron's outfit dubiously.

Ron grinned. "You look like a real wizard, mate," he said, then turned to show off the fit of his dragonskin trousers. "How about me? These were a gift from Bill, mum hates them."

Harry laughed. "I think they're ace," he said, then couldn't help but add, "though you might consider a different shirt."

Ron looked down at his bright orange Cannons jersey and shrugged. "They're doing well this year, you know," he protested, but stripped it off anyway. Harry handed him Charlie's gift instead, which Harry had no doubt had been coordinated, the dark shimmery fabric of the button-down shirt going well with the brighter iridescence of the trousers.

"Still, you want to impress Hermione, don't you?" asked Harry slyly.

Ron grinned and buttoned up, and Harry felt very glad he didn't think of how Ron's build compared to the twins until after it was mostly covered again. "Hermione loves me despite my fashion sense, not because of it."

"Too true, mate," said Dean, slapping Ron on the shoulder. "Come on, we don't want to be late to our own Leaving Feast!"

Harry left his formal robes in a heap on his bed, the Order of Merlin still glittering on the front, and let his friends herd him downstairs to dinner one last time.

* * *

Harry couldn't keep his eyes off of Snape all through the Feast, trying to detect if he was wearing his better quality robes, to catch his eyes alighting on Harry just once. Harry was pleased to see the medal shining on Snape's chest, to see them scattered throughout the four House tables. It emphasised their part in the whole affair while downplaying his own, something he devoutly wished for, though he had no doubt that Rita Skeeter would contrive to somehow make it all about his supposed attention-seeking in tomorrow's _Prophet_.

"So," said Neville, voice pitched low so only Harry could hear, "when are you going for it?"

Harry blushed, but grinned. "Tomorrow, I think. Tonight he might still make noises about me being his student, but tomorrow it'll be official. And if he sends me away, I can just take the Floo home."

Neville grinned and bumped Harry with his shoulder, which made him jostle Ron. Fortunately, Ron's table manners were bad enough not to be affected, and the motion didn't carry on to Hermione. "Wossup?" said Ron, through a mouthful of something best left unidentified.

Harry smiled fondly, and refrained from rolling his eyes. "We're talking about," Harry paused, eyes flicking to where Snape was speaking down his nose at Fudge, much to Harry's amusement, "what I'm going to do tomorrow."

Ron followed Harry's gaze, then swallowed. "Oi, don't tell me about it!" he protested good-naturedly, washing away the last of the food with a big gulp of pumpkin juice before starting the process all over again.

Harry snickered and looked away. "It's a good thing I don't love you for your table manners," said Harry in a louder tone, giving him another gentle shove.

Ron laughed, and Hermione and Neville joined in, having overheard the comment. "It's a good thing you love him like a brother," said Hermione, "or we'd have more problems."

Harry gaped. "Hermione! I would never..."

"I know," she said smugly, "but it's always good make sure you know."

Neville laughed. "She's got you there," he said, while Ron turned red and wisely kept silent.

"Actually, I think she's got Ron," said Harry with a wink, which started another, wider round of laughter.

"Just as long as you get... who you want," said Neville, pointedly not looking in Snape's direction. "Eventually, anyway."

Harry felt himself flush and he shrugged and said philosophically, "Let's hope it's sooner rather than later."

* * *

Harry wasn't sure how he'd survive one more night in the dorms; he felt so excited he was about to jump out of his skin -- or come in his trousers -- and his housemates were just as bad. "I can't believe it's really over!" said Neville for the thirtieth time.

"It's not over until tomorrow," said Ron, giving Harry a significant look. "We're still students until we get on the train."

"Well, until we've left the grounds for the summer, anyway," prevaricated Harry; he had no intention of getting on the train and riding all day, only to try to coax Severus into visiting him by Floo. He was going to beard the dragon in his den as soon as he could reasonably manage, even if it meant bending the strict definition of "left school".

They all laughed at that, and Harry flushed, but he couldn't deny his intentions. "All ready to be a proper adult, then?" said Seamus, slinging an arm over Harry's shoulders.

"You have no idea," said Harry, very sincerely.

"Well," said Dean, pulling something from under his bed, "it's a good thing I've got something to get us started." While he handed out butterbeers from a case he'd smuggled in, and the rest of them pulled out the very last of their snack stashes, crisps and sweets and even some favourfruit from Neville, which took on the flavour of the eater's favourite food.

They all gathered on Harry's bed and shared around their treats, reminiscing on the sorts of memories that were best kept among the guys, of mishaps and exploits and late nights just like these in terms past. Harry extracted a promise from Neville to come check on his Danger Daisy, while Dean and Seamus got one from Ron to arrange for them to see the work rooms in Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, and talk with the twins about their own ideas for Quidditch-related novelties. Ron got Harry to swear he'd come to Sunday dinners, though perhaps not this first Sunday, and Neville got Dean to commit to helping him out with illustrations, should he manage to get his very first Herbology article published. Seamus assured Harry that he'd be happy to help him look into a career in professional Quidditch. Near the end, when they were all sleepy and warm and the sugar was starting to wear off, Harry gave Dean and Seamus a couple of the slips he'd convinced Dumbledore to entrust to him, which held the location of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"It's under Fidelius, so you can't tell anyone else where it is, but I want you all to be able to visit or owl me," explained Harry. "Ron and Neville have been there, so now you can, too."

They both stared at the bits of parchment, lips moving as they memorised the information. "Thanks, Harry," said Dean, sounding surprised and grateful. It was rather spoiled when, a moment later, the papers lit on fire, causing both boys to yelp and drop them. They burned fast enough that there was nothing but ash left to drift onto the coverlet, and somehow that seemed a fitting end to the evening.

"Come on, let's get a few hours of sleep," said Neville, standing and stretching.

Ron got up with him, snagging one of the few remaining chocolate frogs. "For tomorrow," he said, flashing the familiar box with a wink.

Harry laughed. "Wankers, leaving me your rubbish," he said good-naturedly, Banishing things one at a time until only the edibles were left -- two more frogs, an overlooked package of Bertie Bott's, some sugar quills and the last of Neville's fruit. "At least I got the good stuff, too," said Harry with a laugh, putting the treats on his bedside table.

Dean and Seamus laughed, but they all let him keep his prizes, settling one by one into their own beds. Their lights went out one by one as they whispered, "Nox," into the quiet room, and slowly their breathing evened out into the familiar night sounds of the dorm, and even Harry managed to fall asleep

* * *

The morning was full of the rush to pack one last time, knowing that left-behind objects, rather than turning up on beds next term, would be lost forever. It made Harry glad that they'd said their goodbyes and made their promises last night, so he didn't have to feel guilty for being in his own little world now. His mind spun and spun, catching every time on the thought of Severus, and himself, and the sex they might be having soon or even just kissing, god, more of that wonderful kissing.

"Keep grinning like that and we'll think you snuck out last night," said Ron, punching him in the shoulder.

Harry blushed and laughed, looking around to see they were all packed up and ready to go, and waiting on him. "Right, sorry," he said, standing up. He took a bit of pleasure in shrinking down his own trunk for pocketing, and then he was ready with the rest of them. "Gentlemen," he said, giving a foolish, courtly little bow.

"Prat," said Seamus, giving him a shove on the way past.

They tumbled down the stairs amidst laughter and general teasing, and for a moment it felt like the start of term instead of the end. But he knew in his heart that the rest of their trunks were being sent to the Hogwarts Express by the house elves even now, and as of this moment they were all proper adult wizards on their way out into the world.

Or, in Harry's case, on his way hopefully away from the world for a few more very private and stimulating hours. Or possibly days. Weeks, if he was lucky.

"He's got that grin back," said Neville teasingly, giving Harry a nudge.

Harry brought himself back to the present long enough to walk everyone down to the Great Hall and say his farewells one last time amidst hugs and manly handshakes and even a few tears, and he was grateful when they all moved off toward the carriages, and their own futures.

"Shouldn't you be joining them?" asked Dumbledore's familiar voice from behind him.

Harry shrugged. "I thought I might Floo home in a bit, since there's no one to pick me up at King's Cross."

Dumbledore's gaze grew shrewd. "You are no longer his student, but Hogwarts is not the place," he said, and he might have said more, but Snape came to Harry's rescue, breaking off from the last batch of lingering Slytherins to join them.

"Harry was just waiting to invite me to tea in his home, weren't you?" said Snape, voice dangerous and pointed but, to Harry's hopeful ear, rather heated.

Dumbledore snorted. "As you wish, my boy. It is no longer my place to interfere, though I do hope that you will someday come to see me as a friend rather than an enemy."

Harry let out a wry half-grin and shrugged. "You've always been more of an obstacle than either of those," he said. "Well, in this, anyway. As for the other, we all did what we thought we had to."

"Wisdom beyond your years," said Dumbledore, and he looked, if not happy with Harry's answer, at least satisfied as he moved off to speak to McGonagall about something.

Harry's face broke out into the grin he'd been suppressing all day. "I'd love it if you'd join me for lunch, tea, dinner, and maybe even breakfast tomorrow?" he said, in his best flirtatious manner.

Severus laughed, slipping Harry's arm under his own, "I can see I don't have to ask if you've changed your mind about our relationship."

"Is that a yes?" said Harry hopefully, allowing himself to be led along the familiar route down into the dungeons.

"That is a yes, so long as you can manage the patience to stay with me in a platonic manner while the house elves finish packing up my things," replied Severus. He paused, and then added nonchalantly, "I've asked them to deliver the lot to Grimmauld Place."

"Brilliant!" said Harry, giving Severus an enthusiastic hug that would have turned into more if Severus hadn't set him firmly aside.

They'd reached the door to his office, anyway. "Eventually we will need to decide which mouldering pile we wish to reside in, though yours has better facilities, now that it's been renovated," said Severus, as though he discussed moving in with his young lover-to-be every day.

"Then my pile is fine, as it's barely mouldering at all anymore," said Harry with a grin. They stepped inside to find the office already stripped bare, and the house elves hard at work through the open door, boxing up books, bottles and everything else in a seemingly bottomless trio of matching trunks. "Though I'm happy to help renovate yours, too, if that's what you want. Or we could sell the lot and rebuild Godric's Hollow, or buy a whole new house, if that's what we decide later on," he added.

Severus gave him a surprised look, and then nodded. "If it is what we decide, in due time." He turned back to watch the activity for a moment and then said, "I have put in my notice with the headmaster. I find I no longer wish to spend three-fourths of my year looking after idiot children."

"Just one idiot child is enough for you now, I suppose," said Harry, hugging his arm since it was clear any further displays would be reported to Dumbledore who was, after all, the true master of the busy elves.

"Precisely," said Severus. Harry stuck his tongue out, but stayed leaning in close, since Severus was allowing it.

"What will you do?" asked Harry curiously.

Severus smirked. "I seem to have acquired a rich young lover with a fully equipped potions laboratory in his home. I thought I might do research, supplemented with a small business selling exotic potions to a select clientele."

"Like that thing you were brewing last week, for Sinistra?" asked Harry. "Or, you know, the twins would love to have you around for advice on their things."

"The thought had occurred to me," said Severus dryly. "Have you decided on your own illustrious future career?"

Harry snorted. "I've met with everyone I'm supposed to, but I'm going to wait until my NEWTs before I go looking for an Apprenticeship anywhere," he said.

Severus' eyebrows went up. "You intend to Apprentice to a Magical Artisan?"

Harry shrugged. "I'll also talk to some Quidditch scouts, and take that Cursebreaker tour Bill promised me, but yeah, Professor McGonagall agreed that I'd probably enjoy working with my hands."

"You've had your fill of defending the wizarding world against the Dark Arts, I take it?" said Severus sardonically.

"More than," replied Harry wryly. He waited a heartbeat to see if Severus would respond, then added, "Besides, the twins do say I'm good with my hands."

Severus laughed. "Somehow," he said, still chuckling, "I don't think that's something you can turn into a career."

"Oh, I dunno," said Harry, playing along, "What's the going rate for celebrity hand jobs?"

"Where is Master Severus Snape wanting Squimpy to put this?" asked a house elf, holding up a small box with a bow on top and keeping Severus from having to come up with a reply, which Harry found terribly unfair.

"I'll take it, thank you, Squimpy," said Severus, pocketing the object in question before Harry could get more than a cursory look. "It will be interesting to see how you find an appropriate position."

"For hand jobs?" asked Harry with a surprised laugh.

Severus rolled his eyes. "No, brat, for your Apprenticeship. Traditionally a witch or wizard would get offers once their NEWTs were posted, but you will have a hard time discerning which offers are for your name rather than your skills."

"I suppose the places I really want to work might not think to offer for me, too," said Harry a bit glumly. "How do I figure out who's got a spot open, if not offers?"

"If you make it known you're looking," said Severus after a moment, "then it will increase the chances of getting an offer you want, but bring in a deluge of offers you do not."

"Good thing I've got time to figure it out, I guess," said Harry, shaking his head. "I don't want to think about that now, anyway. When will the elves be done?" he asked plaintively.

"Squimpy and Snerks are nearly done, Master Harry Potter, sir," piped up the house elf, from where it was carefully levitating bottles into velvet compartments in a large chest. Despite the fact that the bottles were all different shapes and sizes, they each nestled perfectly into the slots, which Harry suspected were charmed to accommodate.

Harry grinned. "Are you really going to make me serve you tea first?" he asked, giving Severus a hot, impatient look.

"I ought to," said Severus, shaking his head with another of those rich, sensual chuckles, "but in truth I'm not sure I'll even make you leave the parlour."

Harry's laugh echoed in the nearly empty rooms.

* * *

In the end, they had to Floo ahead and instruct the house elves on the disposition of Severus' goods, and found themselves in the parlour, consuming a light tea and impatiently awaiting the privacy for the next step in their relationship. They'd garnered a few reproachful looks when Harry asked for both of their things to be moved into the master bedroom, which had been cleaned and refurnished during the school year in anticipation of Harry's return as master of the house.

"Are you sure you don't wish to put me in another room, until we find out if we're compatible?" said Severus dubiously.

Harry laughed. "If a couple of disapproving house elves were enough to put me off, I'd never have lasted this long," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sure that I want to give this a proper try, and not set you up in a room I have no intention of allowing you to sleep in."

"Snerks is needing to know the disposition of Master Severus Snape's library, Master Harry Potter," came the by-now-familiar squeaking at Harry's elbow.

Harry paused, thinking. "What do you think, Severus, integrate it with the house library or start a second one?"

"Downstairs in the Potions lab, actually," said Severus. "Except the erotica, which should go in the bedroom."

Harry grinned. "Mustn't forget the erotica," he said, taking a sip of his tea. "I've been waiting to get my hands on those for almost as long as I've been waiting to get my hands on you."

"Don't get them sticky," said Severus, pretending distaste.

Harry laughed as Snerks winked back out, then deflated in his chair. "Will they ever be done?" he asked.

"Squimpy is done!" exclaimed the elf, popping in next to Severus this time. "Is Master Severus Snape having any more duties for Squimpy?"

"Does Snerks need any assistance with the books?" asked Severus.

Snerks made his appearance a moment later. "Snerks is done!" he said happily.

"Then I am sure that you have duties back at Hogwarts more pressing than anything here," said Severus dryly.

Harry nodded his very enthusiastic agreement, and the two elves took their leave with much bowing and scraping, before finally, finally vanishing.

"Oh thank god they're-" said Harry. The rest was cut off by the very welcome press of Severus' lips against his own, and Severus' body pushing him into the fabric of the couch. This kiss was different than the others, filled with a promise not of the future but the present moment, hot and demanding now that all the asking had been done and permission joyfully given. Severus' tongue slipped its way past Harry's lips and coaxed Harry's out to play, trading tea-scented moans for Harry's sweet whimpers, until Harry thought they'd have their first time right there on the sofa.

"I was beginning to think they'd been ordered to linger," said Severus, pulling back to take in Harry's face. Severus' lips were damp and swollen from their kisses, and his tongue flicked out as if to taste the essence of Harry lingering on them. "We need to get to a bed."

"Smartest thing you've ever said," replied Harry, surging up to steal another of those delicious kisses, then pushing up further until they were both standing, still trading kisses.

Severus laughed and wrapped his arms around Harry. "I never thought I'd emulate the twins in this manner," he said mysteriously, then Apparated them both up to the bedroom with a squashy feeling and a crack of displaced air.

Harry laughed, delighted, and pulled Severus' head down for another kiss. "You'd have made an excellent miscreant," he said, using one of Snape's favourite epithets. Harry felt a small twinge that the twins weren't here for this, but he set it aside in favour of giving his full attention to the man he'd waited a year for, the man in his arms. "Got a spell to get us naked?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "And miss the unveiling that I've been so breathlessly anticipating?" he said, stepping back with a predatory smile.

Harry blushed, but he wasted no time arguing; he figured compliance would get Severus' cock up his arse fastest, and that had become his singular goal. Harry toed out of his trainers and socks while his hands snagged the hem of his t-shirt, a Christmas gift from the twins that read simply, "Seeker." It was the illustration below, of a broom with two Bludgers hovering below the bristle end and a Snitch fluttering just past the tip, that made it something Harry didn't intend to ever wear in front of Mrs. Weasley.

Severus' eyes on Harry were almost a caress unto themselves, drinking in the sight of him in a way that made him feel both nervous and desirable, though there was nothing of disapproval or doubt in Severus' heated gaze. Shirt tossed aside, Harry's fingers hovered for a moment at the fly of his jeans. "Sure you still want me?" he asked impishly, fingers flicking open the top button.

"More than ever," said Severus, no artifice left between them now.

Harry grinned back impishly and worked his hands down the buttons of the fly one by one, though he'd learned the trick to opening them with a single tug. He loved the way Severus' eyes grew hotter with each button, the way Severus' gaze stayed intently on his open fly even when his hands moved aside, thumbs slipping under the waistband of his jeans and the pants beneath as well, sliding them both down and off in one swift movement. "Well?" asked Harry, straightening, arms crossed over his chest and cock bobbing in the warm air of the room.

"Well, well," said Severus, teasing and challenging at once. He paced around Harry, still in his clothing, eyes taking in every inch and the inspection lasting just long enough to send butterflies fluttering through Harry's stomach. "Very well indeed," said Severus, swooping in for a kiss that nearly melted Harry's resolve entirely. The brush of cloth against Harry's naked skin was a tantalising caress, and a reminder of who was in control, of his own vulnerability and the trust he was giving along with his body.

It was intoxicating.

"Shall I offer you a show as well?" asked Severus, a challenge in his voice that dared Harry to demonstrate patience and maturity, just as Severus had thus far.

Harry nodded, stepping back. "I should hope so," he said, then grinned and turned to leap onto the bed, posing himself with his head propped on one elbow and one knee up, framing rather than hiding his erection. "I'll wait here, shall I?"

Severus' smile took on a more feral cast and he began working on the buttons of one cuff, fingers deft and movements measured, but swift. Harry found his throat going dry at the thought of all those buttons and himself, one day, responsible for putting Severus in them in the morning, and taking him back out again at night. "You haven't shown me everything," said Severus, his voice chiding as he worked on the second cuff.

Harry cocked his head, then laughed. "If I show you that, I won't be able to watch you," he said, a frisson of desire going through him at the very thought of exposing himself to Severus that way, though of course he'd done that and many more humiliating things for Fred and George.

"Ah," said Severus, carefully hanging first his outer robe, and then his waistcoat, in the second wardrobe that had appeared in the room courtesy of the house elves, already filled with Severus' clothing. "I will look forward to finding it for myself, then," replied Severus, and Harry had a feeling he'd walked right into Severus' plans. Not that he minded at all.

"I expect we'll both enjoy that," said Harry, hand twitching with the need to touch himself as the cufflinks clinked into a dish on the dresser. Severus' hands slowly worked open the now-rumpled white shirt, and Harry made a show of stretching languidly to try to work some of the mounting tension out of his muscles. He was afraid he'd come before Severus even touched him at this rate.

Severus smirked and opened his shirt, finally revealing the chest Harry had seen just the once and often dreamed of since, lean and scarred with a scattering of dark hair and that intriguing trail that led down into Severus' well-filled trousers. "Now you're just showing off," said Severus teasingly, as Harry ended up on his back, legs spread wide but his secrets still hidden by the angle, face turned toward Severus.

"Not that you mind," replied Harry impishly, arms going overhead to grip the headboard and body arching up as though he were already bound and tormented. "You like me this way."

"Who wouldn't?" agreed Severus, bending down to remove shoes and socks and giving Harry a rather lovely view of his arse while he was at it. When he straightened, rather than pausing to tease as Harry had, his fingers continued their efficient work and got the placket on his trousers open swiftly. They were taken down and hung up before Harry could do more than bite his lip, revealing a form-fitting pair of black cotton pants that seemed to be a bit like stretchy boxers. The fabric hugged the contours of Severus' arse and, more importantly, outlined his impressive cock and bollocks quite clearly.

"I like you that way," said Harry, licking his lips in anticipation of the sight he'd soon be treated to.

"You'd like me any way, so long as I was on my way to your arse," retorted Severus, though there was no bite to it, rather a pride that surprised Harry, who had never quite managed to think of himself as a prize worth winning.

"My arse has been waiting a long time," said Harry, eyes fixed, much as Severus' had been, on the prize he'd been so long denied. Severus took down his pants swiftly and tossed them in the hamper, then strode over with his thick cock leading the way almost faster than Harry could take in the sight, the shape and size and curve of it, the plum-like head and heavy balls swinging below.

"It won't wait much longer," said Severus, pouncing on Harry, hands coming up to hold Harry's down while his cock slid along Harry's thigh and hip teasingly, the skin hot and velvet-soft and slightly damp at the tip already. Harry wanted to object and demand a longer look, but he was quickly distracted by Severus' mouth descending onto his, taking it in a kiss that both assumed permission and claimed ownership. Harry had never appreciated more than this moment how strong and mobile Severus' mouth was, the lips thin but soft, his tongue skilled as it drew Harry's into a dance, mouth tasting not of tea or biscuits but just himself.

Harry did melt then, letting go of most of his control and putting his body, his heart and his trust into Severus' hands. Though he'd trained with the twins to keep his head during such intimate moments, Harry didn't want to think of such things tonight. This first time, he wanted to feel and give and be taken and nothing else, no artificial boundaries in the way of whatever Severus wanted to do with and to him.

"Harry," groaned Severus, his hands releasing Harry's wrists, though Harry stayed just as he was. Severus' mouth began its journey downward, pausing to kiss the spot behind one ear, taste the hollow of Harry's throat, to bite at a nipple hard enough to make Harry gasp. He sampled the fluid pooling on Harry's belly but skipped over the needy cock altogether, nuzzling Harry's bollocks out of the way in search of his real goal.

Completely shameless now, Harry brought his knees up and his hands down, spreading his arsecheeks to display the one part of him he'd kept from Severus until now. "Good boy," Severus murmured, before proving that kissing was not the most wonderful thing he could do with his mouth.

Harry mewled desperately but didn't even bother to beg; Severus would allow him to come in his own time, and for now Harry wanted to give this to his lover, to be a banquet and a vessel, to give up the one part of him that had remained relatively pure. "You're so ready for me," said Severus once, his voice holding wonder even as two slender fingers slipped into Harry's body, demonstrating his readiness.

Harry blushed and mewled, but admitted, "I opened myself some before, with the spell the twins showed me." It had been sheer torture, to sit there and have tea with his arse still tingling from the cleaning spells, empty and wanting Severus to fill him.

Severus groaned and bit one cheek, hard enough to mark, hard enough to make Harry cry out and his balls draw up. "Don't come yet," warned Severus, working a third finger, slick with something Harry hadn't seen him retrieve, up inside Harry's hungry opening. His tongue joined the three fingers, slithering in and sending the last of Harry's thoughts spiralling away.

"Please, please, please, I'll do anything, just have me, please, Severus, I've waited so long!" Harry begged, though he didn't move his hands, instead pulling himself open even wider, hips straining upward into the touches.

Severus smirked and sat up, using his left hand to spread lubricant onto his cock while the fingers of the right twisted and thrust into Harry's willing body. "Far too long," he agreed, moving close, teasing the fat head of his cock at Harry's already-full entrance. "Hands overhead now," ordered Severus, his tone one of an authority that took for granted he would be obeyed. He grasped each of Harry's ankles in his hand and spread them wide, then pushed forward, the head of his cock breaching Harry's empty, greedy body. He folded Harry in half, pressing Harry's ankles into the pillows as he drove his cock deep into Harry's willing arse.

Harry was flexible enough for anything Severus might want, but he cried out anyway from the pure, sharp pleasure of finally getting something he'd wanted all for himself. Severus' cock was hotter than any tongue or fingers had ever been, longer and thicker, reaching places inside him he'd only hoped would feel this good. "Severus," he whimpered, voice broken and body bent to his lover's will, everything he'd longed to be and more.

"I have you, Harry, you're mine now," said Severus, his voice as gentle as his actions were rough. Severus fucked Harry like that for what seemed like moments, or hours, each thrust rubbing against things inside Harry that set off sparks, brought alive every nerve in his body and flooded his veins with pure pleasure. "Come for me, Harry, let me see it on your face," said Snape, shifting them so Harry was nearly upside-down, his own cock a few inches from his mouth.

"Yes, oh yes," Harry said, the words almost a sob as he let go of the last threads of control and spattered his face with his own seed, thick spurts that landed on cheek and brow and lips, and even the glasses he'd left on, though the fluid rolled right off the charmed lenses.

"Yessss," hissed Severus, letting go of Harry's ankles in favour of tangling fingers in Harry's messy hair, mouth moving in to lap at the come on Harry's face, ending in a searing kiss that shared the tangy, bitter stuff with Harry like the treat it was. Harry moaned into the kiss, hips trapped by the position and arse pounded by Severus' cock, the movements sharper and more erratic now that Harry had been seen to. Harry gave his whole body up to the pursuit of Severus' pleasure, whimpers forced from Harry's throat with each thrust and eagerly swallowed by his lover.

Severus delayed his own release long enough that Harry knew he'd be feeling the echoes of their lovemaking tomorrow and possibly into the next day, though he expected to have been used many times over by then. "Please, please, need you to come, please," begged Harry, not asking for an ending so much as evidence that Severus enjoyed this even half as much as Harry.

Severus growled and sped his thrusts, drawing cries from Harry as their desire built together this time, Harry's body reacting to the rough treatment with predictable wantonness. "Mine," he said, "mine," over and over between kisses and nips at Harry's swollen mouth, until he finally arched back and cried out the word once, loud enough to reach the heavens.

"Oh, yours," said Harry, one hand letting go of its grip on the bed frame to slip cool fingers down Severus' heated cheek, finding a beauty in the lines of Severus' face that he'd never expected.

Severus shuddered and opened his eyes, looking at Harry in wonder. "I believe that was, as they say, a resounding success," he said after a moment, and Harry laughed and tangled both hands in Severus' sweaty hair and kissed him, long and slow and sweet.

"I don't suppose there's room in your success for a little sucking?" asked Harry teasingly. His own cock was still hard, and the need shivered along his nerves, pushing out the languor that was tugging at the back of his brain.

Severus' grin grew wicked. "I think there's room for something else," he said, pulling out and letting Harry's legs finally straighten. He straddled Harry's hips and then, with a dip into the glass apple that he'd left nestled in the covers, he slipped two fingers inside his own arse, holding his balls up out of the way so Harry could _almost_ see them disappearing into the depths.

"R-really?" asked Harry, shocked and delighted. He knew Severus sometimes chose to bottom for the twins, but he'd expected to have to earn Severus' trust in his skills before he was allowed to have the arse he'd coveted all year. Harry trailed tentative hands over Severus' thighs and belly while Severus worked himself open, curious fingers lifting Severus' heavy cock and carding through the fascinatingly lush fur that it nestled in.

"I want all of you to be mine," said Severus, the possessiveness in his voice enough to draw a small moan of agreement from Harry.

"I want that, too," said Harry, eyes meeting Severus' and finding the warmth and affection he'd grown to rely on, still there now that the desire was fulfilled.

Though not entirely sated; Severus' cock began to twitch and harden under Harry's ministrations, and Harry stole a bit of the apple's bounty for himself, using it to coax Severus to full erection. Severus repaid the favour, slicking Harry's cock and then positioning himself above it, eyes on Harry's face while Harry's gaze kept flickering up and down the length of Severus' body, from his needy, possessive expression to the jutting cock and dark, hidden space behind his balls.

"Now," said Severus, slowly sinking down onto Harry's cock until his narrow arse rested on Harry's hips, "you're all mine." The feeling was like nothing Harry had ever experienced, so different from a hand or a mouth, hotter and tighter and somehow more intimate with Severus' eyes locked on his.

Harry slid his hands up Severus' body and pulled him down, gratified when Severus bent like a reed to bestow the kisses that Harry craved. "All yours," whispered Harry, and then he thrust up once, sharply, just to hear Severus' gasp of surprised need.

Severus took the hint and after a few awkward tries they found a rhythm together, Harry's hips pushing up and in while Severus came down to meet him, their tongues dancing a counterpoint of kisses. It was a different kind of feeling for Harry, his awareness of Severus' needs colouring his own experience, keeping him in the moment rather than surrendering himself to Severus' ministrations the way he had earlier. Instead he kept control, took control, driving himself up into Severus and slipping a hand back down between them to stroke the luscious cock that had been inside him so recently, feeling the contours in a way his arse hadn't been able to, fingertips exploring every ridge and curve.

"Harry," moaned Severus, speeding up and pulling Harry along with him, kisses forgotten as their focus was narrowed to Harry in Severus, to Severus thrusting through Harry's hand and then back onto Harry's cock, again and again and each push and pull building the fire between them until Harry knew he was going to explode.

"Please, oh please," said Harry, not wanting to come too soon but knowing he couldn't hold out much longer.

"Mine!" cried Severus again, and Harry would have laughed if he wasn't too caught up in watching the pleasure suffuse Severus' features, in milking the lush spurts of thick come from Severus' cock.

"You're mine," whispered Harry, renewing his upward thrusts as soon as Severus' shuddering subsided. He lasted only a few seconds more before finally letting his own orgasm overtake him, crying out wordlessly as he spent himself inside Severus' willing body.

"Yes," said Severus, leaning down to steal a kiss as Harry came down from the glorious high, "I am."

Harry grinned like an idiot and kissed him again. "You'll let me do that again, right?" asked Harry, no longer worried that his lovers would mind having him bottom most of the time, if topping felt this good.

Severus laughed and kissed his nose. "I shall be very put out if you don't," he said, before straightening up and pulling away. He retrieved the apple from its nest of blankets and restored it to the snake-cradle on the nightstand, capping it with the green leaf stopper, then opened a small box next to it and pulled out a steaming flannel from its obviously charmed interior.

"Let me," said Harry, well aware that Severus had done the lion's share of the work this evening. He resolved with the small part of his mind still working to show Severus some of his hard-won skills next time, and started out by carefully cleaning them, wiping the less sensitive places first and then exploring more intimately as the cloth cooled. "So, you'll stay?" he asked, after a few moments of fumbling, watching as Severus put the flannel right back where it came from.

Severus chuckled and kissed him. "They warned me you wouldn't believe in yourself," he said, taking care to tuck them both under the covers and gathering Harry into his arms. "Of course I'll stay, Harry, as long as you'll have me."

Harry grinned. "Forever, then," he said recklessly. A part of him worried that they'd put an awful lot on this moment, from Severus' career to his own happiness, but they'd also spent months letting the affection develop between them. Now all that was left was to see if the fire would stay hot now that they'd quenched it once.

Given the way Severus was looking at him, Harry couldn't help but think perhaps he worried too much.

"Forever is an excellent start," said Severus, with as much dignity as he could muster, given the state of them.

Harry snuggled up shamelessly, happy that at the very least he'd never spend another lonely night in bed, wondering what Severus and the twins were up to while he was banished from the adults' play. He grinned and began to drift off to sleep, imagining all the things three very creative men could do with one enthusiastically willing Harry.

* * *

Thanks to his time with the twins, Harry wasn't too surprised to find himself wrapped in a warm embrace when he awoke a few hours later. Severus was nuzzling at his neck, teeth nipping first softly, then when Harry made a pleased noise, much more sharply. Harry's sleeping brain didn't stand a chance, and when Severus' fingers came up to pinch at a nipple, Harry melted into him, knees falling open invitingly.

Severus chuckled, a wicked, heated sound. "Do you trust me, Harry?" he asked, pinching the other nipple, hard enough to send sparks of pain and pleasure shooting through Harry's muddled mind like fireworks on a misty night.

"With everything I am," said Harry readily. He stretched with languid sensuality, until his arms were overhead and his legs spread wide, his whole body on offer to his lover.

Severus licked his ear and whispered, "Good." Then, much to Harry's dismay, he moved away with a sharply ordered, "Stay."

"Yes, sir," said Harry automatically. He could feel the muscles in his thighs straining just a little as the heavy covers pushed his knees wider, but it was a good strain, one that promised future flexibility.

"Have the twins ever told you about our sessions?" asked Severus, his tone casual as he moved about the room, dignified even in his nudity.

Harry's eyes followed him hungrily, taking in the graceful lines of his limbs, the old scars and sparse, dark hair adorning them. "Yes, sir," said Harry. Those were some of his favourite nights, when they'd impart lessons learned at Severus' feet, each strike, swat or kiss coming from Severus in a way, at least to Harry's mind.

"Then you have some small idea of my methods," said Severus, sounding satisfied.

Harry grinned impishly. "Only that they are varied and creative, sir."

Severus laughed and said, "As good a place to begin as any, I suppose." He bent down to rummage through one of his trunks, giving Harry a breathtaking view of his long legs, parted just enough to see his bollocks in the shadows beneath the narrow curve of his arse.

Harry had to bite back a moan at the thought of worshipping that arse, licking at his own come and tasting parts of Severus he'd only dreamed about before. In fact that was still pretty much all of Severus, but Harry knew he could be patient. They had time, and Harry was certain that Severus would make sure they did everything at least three times, just to be sure.

And then, hopefully, do it all again and again in endless variations.

Harry's eyes slid downward of their own accord, watching the flex and play of muscles in Severus' calves, then further, to the one thing he'd half-hoped he'd grow out of wanting: Severus' feet. Severus turned and began to walk toward him, long toes flexing, tendons moving in the tops of the elegantly shaped feet, ankles strong and slender. It wasn't until the edge of the bed hid them from sight that Harry managed to drag his gaze back upward to see Severus' knowing smirk, and the coils of white rope in his hands.

"Are you ready for this?" asked Severus, voice rich with amusement and desire in equal measure.

Harry nodded, trembling just a little. "Yes, sir," he said shakily, not out of any apprehension but an anticipation almost as strong as he'd had earlier for the simpler pleasure of making love with Severus.

This would be even better.

Harry allowed himself to be repositioned, pliant as a doll but helpful when it seemed warranted, though soon enough he didn't have enough freedom of movement left to help. Severus had started with Harry's legs, tying a thick bundle of rope at the top and bottom of his knees to keep them bent, then extending it downward in a more delicate web until his calves were bound to his thighs all the way down to the ankle, straining the thick muscles at the top of his thighs. Severus flipped him over then, hands moving along the arch of his body, pulling him up into a kneeling position for the next step, a sleeve of rope tying his arms behind his back from wrists to shoulders, pulling his posture straight and his shoulders back. There was just enough space to keep from hindering his breathing too much, but Harry could tell he'd be sore tomorrow.

Next, Severus began to weave the rope around Harry's torso, seemingly miles of it until Harry was corseted by the stuff, waist pulled in and chest thrust out, narrow hips outlined in white. Severus drew the strands downward, joining the bonds at his thighs like the straps of a garter belt, framing his cock, balls and arse obscenely. Lastly, Severus made a collar of the last short length, with a leash leading off that made Harry feel humiliatingly like a pet, though in this state he couldn't be led anywhere at all. He was held fast in a webwork of white rope, soft and strong, unyielding as he shifted just a little to get more comfortable.

"Lovely," said Severus, making a circle in front of and behind Harry with his wand, conjuring two mirrors and an infinity of Harrys, bound and helpless, red-faced and erect, panting and needy. Harry looked into his own half-lidded eyes and saw the submission there, let his gaze follow the dizzying patterns of white until all he could do was close his eyes and whimper.

"Thank you, sir," whispered Harry, once he could think enough to realise that he'd forgotten.

Severus chuckled. "Such a good boy," he said, settling something over Harry's eyes, a blindfold of silk that shut out even the tiny glimmers of candlelight Harry had been getting through his closed eyelids.

Another silent spell, and Harry felt his body drift upward until he could no longer feel the bed beneath him. He shivered and gasped when Severus' fingers touched him, first from one angle then another, with no warning as to where he would be caressed, pinched or kissed next. Every patch of exposed skin became triply sensitive, waiting for any sign that it would be next to receive fingers or teeth, lips or tongue. Severus gave no preference to the bare slope of Harry's shoulders or the hungry opening between his arsecheeks, nibbling on toes and nipples, bollocks and hipbones with equal attention. Harry was a writhing, whimpering mass of need, each little movement tugging ropes this way and that until even the skin Severus couldn't reach was alive with sensation.

"You are exquisite like this," whispered Severus in Harry's ear, his body warm against Harry's back for a brief moment before moving away again. The next thing Harry felt was Severus' mouth sliding up his cock to suckle all too briefly on the head, and he moaned in despair when that, too, moved away. He was starting to believe that he'd never be allowed the freedom to come or even move again, that Severus would keep him here, squirming and needy and blind, as a toy for Severus' sole pleasure.

Harry wasn't sure he minded the idea, though his balls were beginning to disagree, aching with unfulfilled lust despite their earlier enthusiastic emptying. It seemed to him that the touches were accelerating, coming more often and lingering longer, but it could have been the sense of timelessness that came with being suspended by magic and bound by mundane rope, blind and reduced to nothing but wanting. "Please, sir, please," he begged, as fingers slipped from his arse, crying out softly when teeth scraped sharply along his upper arm.

"Please what, my toy?" asked Severus, voice full of the teasing that had never seemed so wicked to Harry before this moment.

"Please have me, sir, o-or let me come, oh please," begged Harry, no shame left at all. "I'll do anything, sir, just let me come!"

Severus chuckled. "Nothing is stopping you from coming, pet," he said, and Harry felt something cool and strange nudge his balls. A wriggle proved it to be Severus' toes, and Harry groaned, imagining the sight that was denied him as they moved upward, slipping along Harry's cock in a wicked caress.

Harry mewled, thrusting his hips as best he could, and finally Severus accommodated him by laying his whole foot against Harry's cock, the heel pressing into his balls and the toes teasing at the head. Harry thrust harder, the friction only bearable because of his own copious fluids. "Oh, sir, please, I'm, oh please, please!" he begged, though he'd already been given tacit permission.

"Yes, love, that's it," whispered Severus.

That was all Harry needed to send him over the edge, and he exploded in a rush of pleasure so intense his vision was flooded with sparkling gold and white, his ears filled with the roar of his own blood. His release seemed to last forever, his sense of time completely broken by Severus' torments, and Harry went limp in his bonds when it ended, panting and spent. "Thank you, sir," he said hoarsely, as soon as his throat worked well enough to speak.

"My lovely boy, the pleasure is all mine," said Severus, and then Harry felt something nudging at his lips.

Harry opened obediently, finding his mouth filled with Severus' thick cock, tasting the salt and bitterness of precome, the musk of Severus' desire filling his nose and throat. Severus stroked his hair, thrusting shallowly at first, giving Harry just a little more each time. Harry opened his throat as the twins had taught him, relaxed now that he'd had his own release, feeling a deep contentment settle inside him as he sucked at Severus' cock. He used the skills he'd been taught until they were no longer useful, until Severus was using his mouth like just another hole and all Harry could do was serve as a receptacle for Severus' lust.

Harry let himself drift, humming happily in his mind though his throat was incapable of making a sound with Snape's cock thrusting down into it, barely able to catch breath enough to keep himself conscious between thrusts and not caring one bit. Severus would never hurt him, Harry knew, and that made all the difference in the world. There was nothing for him but this moment, the joy of being used and the safety of being bound, and despite the strain on his body, Harry never wanted it to end.

Severus' thrusts eventually grew more ragged, his gasps and moans losing coherency as they drifted down from above, until finally he stilled, hands holding Harry close as he spent himself down Harry's throat. He pulled out just enough to paint a stripe of come over Harry's tongue at the end, dragging his cock through Harry's mouth deliberately before pulling away. "Swallow, pet," he ordered gently, hands still stroking Harry's hair.

Harry closed his mouth, savouring the flavour for a moment before swallowing, head tilted up as though to gaze adoringly at Severus even through the blindfold. "Thank you, sir," he said hoarsely, a tiny smile finding its way to his bruised, wet lips.

"Such a good boy," said Severus, leaning down to kiss him quite tenderly. Severus moved away, and when he returned his kisses came with cool water, fed in sips from mouth to mouth until Harry's throat was soothed and all thoughts had fled his mind, flooded out by the contentment that filled him.

It was almost a disappointment when Severus Banished the ropes and blindfold, gathering Harry close to him in the bed for more kisses, though this time without the water. Harry smiled, blinking in the dim light, then let his eyes close again so he could bask in Severus' presence a little longer.

"Sleep, love, I'll be here in the morning," whispered Severus, and there was nothing Harry could do but obey.

* * *

When Harry woke the next time it was morning, and he was alone. He sat up unsteadily, a thread of worry driving off the fog of sleep, but as soon as his hand touched his glasses a chime sounded, followed by the crack of Apparition and a fuzzy shape that resolved itself into Severus when Harry got the glasses onto his face. Harry licked his lips and smiled, wondering if he dared a kiss despite the horrid taste in his mouth, laughing when Snape handed him a phial of potion and cup of warm mint tea.

"Drink first, then kiss," said Severus with his usual aplomb.

Harry stuck his tongue out, but complied. His aches vanished with the horrible potion, and he swished the unsweetened tea around in his mouth to rinse away the residue, then drank down the rest in big gulps. "Am I safe now?" he asked impishly, pushing his face forward, screwing up his eyes and pursing his lips like a child expecting a kiss from an elderly relative.

"As safe as you'll ever be for me," said Severus mysteriously, leaning in to kiss Harry first lightly and then, when Harry's mouth softened to a more normal pose, more deeply.

Harry was grinning when they broke apart. "I nearly had a heart attack when I woke up and you were gone," he said shyly, looking up into Severus' face. It was a bit like trying to scry tea leaves, at least when Severus was putting on his impassive facade, and Harry bit his lip and tried not to look too hopeful.

Severus chuckled and shook his head. "I thought you'd appreciate breakfast more than lying abed, but I'll remember this tomorrow when you wake ravenous and there's nothing but cold toast waiting."

Harry laughed and slipped out of the covers, his morning erection leading the way. "I'm not ravenous for toast," he said, though his stomach growled to belie his statement.

Severus chuckled and kissed him again, then summoned a set of pyjamas. "Breakfast before sex," he teased. "I have to keep your energy up, you're still a growing boy." His eyes flicked downward significantly.

"Bastard," said Harry affectionately, covering the fully-grown body part in question before demanding more kisses. "Toast it is, then."

They took a more sedate route down the stairs, Severus graciously allowing Harry to stop them several times for kissing on the way. When they got to the kitchen, the table had been set and a proper breakfast was steaming gently under charms just waiting for them. The biggest surprise, however, was the familiar beribboned box sitting at Harry's usual place.

Harry grinned. "Presents make up for waking up alone," he said, stealing one last kiss before skipping over and sitting down. He picked up the box and asked, "Now?" with his hand already poised over the ribbon.

"Now, imp," said Snape affectionately, pouring the tea while Harry untied his prize.

The outer cardboard box contained another box, this one of black velvet and tantalising familiarity. Harry opened it quickly and gasped, a grin following on the heels of his surprise as he lifted Severus' signet ring out of its nest. "Really?" said Harry, slipping the ring onto his finger and feeling as though it had always belonged there.

Severus smiled. "Really, Harry," he said, sitting not on his own side of the table but next to Harry on the bench. "I haven't said in so many words yet, but I have grown to love you very much, and I want it to be known that you are... Mine." He said the last word with a fierce possessiveness that both startled and warmed Harry to his toes, not to mention certain other anatomy in between.

"I am yours, and I have been since... Since you took that first kiss," said Harry, turning his face up in blatant invitation.

Severus leaned in and kissed him as greedily as that first time, only now there was no taint of guilt as his arms pulled Harry close and his tongue coaxed Harry's into an intricate dance. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, until Harry's stomach gave another loud rumble and they broke apart, laughing breathlessly. "I suppose that since you are mine, it behooves me to feed you," said Severus, kissing him on the tip of his nose and standing.

Harry grinned and sipped the perfect cup of tea that Severus had set by his plate, then began to serve them both from the steaming platters of food. "You wouldn't want me fainting from hunger, or mistaking you for a sausage," said Harry, spearing a juicy one on his fork with vicious glee.

Snape's answering look of hunger was anything but culinary, and Harry ate fast. He had a feeling he was in for a very full morning.


	26. The Nature of Flexibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape, Harry and the Weasley twins explore the new possibilities of their friendship, and Percy makes a step toward a brighter future.

"Well-fucked is a good look on you," said Fred as he pulled Harry into a warm hug.

Severus didn't have time to envy him as George said, "You, too," fitting himself into Severus' arms with the ease of long practice.

There was a pleasant silence that followed, filled with kissing and general reacquainting, and this time when Severus and Harry swapped partners, they paused in the middle to kiss one another. "I bet you two do that," began Fred, watching interestedly.

"In front of Dumbledore," finished George with a laugh, pulling Harry close as the kiss came to an end.

"Every chance we get," said Harry with a smirk, though in truth they'd only seen Albus once in the two weeks since leaving school.

Severus laughed and kissed Fred, feeling a tightness ease inside him to find that they were still allowed these liberties. He loved Harry and Harry loved him, but this thing they'd both found with the twins was irreplaceable.

He'd been as relieved as Harry to find that they all agreed.

"I take it you've decided," began Fred, when Severus' hands wandered off of any path that could possibly be called 'friendly.'

George looked over and winked, "to keep us?"

"I think we should be like we were," said Harry guilelessly, nuzzling at George's neck.

Severus chuckled, thinking of all the time he'd spent teaching Harry the finer points of subtle negotiations, only have it come to this. "He means friends who share a bed sometimes, not a foolish return to the times when you could have one or the other of us."

Twin grins lit up their faces, and Severus felt yet another coil of tension let go. "That suits us."

"Juuuust fine," they replied, and Severus allowed himself to be drawn into more kisses, though it was a small risk to stay here by the Floo instead of repairing to the master bedroom, and the bed he and Harry had enlarged just this morning.

Severus stepped back, drawing Fred with him a kiss at a time until they were by the door and had nearly left Harry and George behind. He smirked and said, loudly enough for them all to hear, "Race you."

Then he turned and bolted upstairs, reassured by the pounding of feet behind him that he'd found a way to get them all right where he wanted them.

Harry was laughing with that same open delight he showed in everything, breathless and grinning as they all piled onto the bed together in a heap with no regard for who had arrived there first. "Who'd have thought you could be like this," teased Harry, finding Severus' mouth for kisses that removed any need for a reply.

"We always knew there was something," said Fred, hands burrowing into Severus' clothing, which was thankfully minimal in the summer's heat.

"Hiding under the armour," said George, going for all of their shoes and socks, tossing them around the room with gleeful impunity.

"But we didn't know it'd be this good," finished Fred, passing Severus' trousers and pants down to George, the shirt flung off to one side already.

Fred's attentions moved to Harry, already denuded of shoes and one sock and happy to be wriggled out of his t-shirt. "I'm just glad Severus decided to give us the benefit of the doubt," said Harry impishly.

Severus snorted, hands already busy removing Fred's clothing. "There is only so much temptation a man can ignore before he partakes of the feast set before him," he intoned with mock-seriousness, which was rather spoilt when he sought Harry's mouth with his once more. This necessitated stretching his nude body over a half-naked Fred, and had the rather pleasant result of Fred cupping his hand around the curve of Severus' arse.

George made short work of everyone's remaining clothes, making sure they were all sock-free before piling on top of Severus to kiss Fred, getting an "oof" from them both.

Severus slithered out from between their bodies and onto Harry, both of them pausing to watch for a moment before Severus distracted Harry thoroughly with a series of nips and kisses to his tender throat. "I think we should all take turns having you," said Severus wickedly, whispering it right into Harry's ear so there would be no question which "you" he meant.

Harry moaned, and a shiver went through him. He grew pliant under Severus' arms, and when he spoke it was a hoarse, joyful moan. "Yes, oh yes, please!"

"You'll spoil him," said Fred, turning to watch Harry's face.

George nibbled along Fred's collarbone and added, "We'd love to help."

Severus chuckled. "Hear that, pet? You may trust us completely today, no lessons or limits," he said, kissing along Harry's jaw before taking his mouth with thorough possessiveness. "You're ours now."

The last of Harry's resistance melted away, and Severus watched the transformation, finding it no less fascinating this time than he had the first time Harry had given himself to Severus. Knowing it was trust and love that allowed Harry to surrender to his own nature made it as different from the sexual slavery of Severus' past as wine from vinegar.

Severus felt himself smiling, and made no effort, for once, to hide it.

"We'll take such good care of you," promised Fred, reaching out to run a hand down Harry's body, as much reassurance as caress.

George grinned and tweaked a nipple, "Better than ever, with Severus to live up to," he said, an eagerness in both their faces that told Severus that this was the right decision. They'd been patient a long time, allowing Severus his firsts with Harry, and this was a reward all four of them would enjoy very much.

Severus indulged himself in kissing Harry for long minutes while the twins alternated kissing one another, and running greedy hands over Severus and Harry's willing bodies. Harry's kisses were a different creature like this, hungry but passively so, taking endlessly without once pushing for more, mouth as soft and pliant, open and welcoming as the rest of him. As Severus knew his arse could, and would, be.

Eventually the kisses weren't enough, and Severus moved off of Harry, garnering him a whimper of protest and a flutter of those black eyelashes, Harry's eyes dazed and slightly confused as he blinked up at them. "S'not over?" he asked, with the innocence of perfect trust.

"No, love," said Severus, reassuring him with one last, sweeter kiss. "It's just beginning."

Harry smiled and spread wide, arms and legs opening up to them, and licked his lips. "I'm all yours," he said, then looked over at Fred and George and added with a sensual little wriggle, "And yours, and yours."

"We'll make sure you're well-taken," said George, fingers gentle brushing Harry's cheek.

"Even you'll be sated when we're done," said Fred with a laugh.

Severus, having been on the receiving end of Harry's seemingly endless libido for two weeks now, chuckled in sympathy. "I think you'll need to be bound to fully appreciate your situation, pet," he said, stroking his long fingers over Harry's skin, finding it as always surprisingly soft despite the scars here and there of an active youth, taut and smooth over the toned muscle beneath. Harry was a pleasure to touch as he arched into the caresses shamelessly, spreading himself further but not otherwise trying to guide Severus' hands.

"We brought something," said George, slipping off Fred and out of bed.

"You'll like this," said Fred, leering at Severus and Harry in equal measure.

George returned with a handful of wide, thick velvet ribbons, though they seemed to Severus' eye to be cut into strips too short to be of much use. "Assume the position, pet," said George, excitement clear in his face, not to mention other parts of his anatomy.

"Hands and knees, love," clarified Fred.

Harry rolled over and obeyed eagerly, fuzzy bollocks swaying between his spread thighs, his back arched to display his arse invitingly. He kept his arms straight in front of him, holding himself up, watching George curiously.

"Good boy," said George, patting the arse in question.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry happily, hips wiggling in such a way as to suggest a wagging tail.

Severus stifled a snort of laughter at the image. Instead, he watched closely as George laid the first of the ribbons under Harry's ankles. He curled the ends over Harry's ankles, tucking them under, and then grinned. "Watch this," he said triumphantly, tapping the ribbon with his wand.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Fred grinned and said, "Harry, try to close your legs for me."

Harry gave him a look which suggested this was a counterproductive idea, face growing delighted when he found that he couldn't comply. "I'm stuck!" he said, leaning forward and bringing his legs up off the bed.

Severus reached out and felt the ribbon, rigid between the ankles but still soft enough not to hurt, velvet wrapping Harry's skin gently while keeping him quite neatly bound. "Impressive," he said. "Your invention?"

"Sort of," said Fred, while George got to the business of binding Harry properly in place. "We found the spell in an old book out of the attic, though originally it was used on rope to hobble horses."

"Good little horsie," said George teasingly, stroking Harry's wild mane of hair. He'd bound Harry's wrists apart with another rigid length, and then run a third from the centre of that ribbon up and around Harry's neck, forming a collar that would quite neatly keep his head in place without choking him. One more laid from stem to stern, and Harry was quite thoroughly immobilised, the last length forcing both hands and feet down onto the bed by joining the bonds between them.

Harry whinnied at George, then moaned as Severus took a moment to prove Harry's vulnerability by tugging on the warm balls just waiting to be emptied. "This is most satisfactory," said Severus; he didn't want to praise them overmuch, or one of them might faint and spoil his plans.

Instead, Severus moved around to Harry's front, kneeling so that his cock was just out of reach of that hungry mouth, and said, "I'll keep this end occupied while you prepare that end, hm?"

"That," said George, finding the full bottle of lubricant on the nightstand.

"Is an excellent idea," said Fred, holding his hand out so George could slick his fingers.

Severus moved forward into the reaching caress of Harry's tongue. "All right, pet?" he asked.

Harry nodded, straining to get Severus' cock properly into his mouth. Severus chuckled and obliged him, pushing forward unhurriedly, feeding Harry each inch with a slowness that tormented them both. Harry moaned while he still could, and Severus looked up to see fingers burying themselves in him, one from each twin slick with oil and sliding inward.

"You've wanted this a long time, haven't you, little pony? Three riders to exercise you properly from both ends," teased Severus, pulling out enough that Harry could nod with charming enthusiasm, though he didn't stop sucking for a moment. "Good boy," he said, stroking Harry's hair and face, glancing from him to the twins and back and wondering how he'd been so lucky to have attracted these young men into his life and his bed.

"You should see him," said George, voice holding a note of the same wonder.

Fred grinned, pulling his two fingers away from George's pair so there was a gap between them. "He's so pink inside," said Fred.

"So open," said George, tugging further away so that Severus could almost see in himself, if it weren't for the angle. He'd have to have them do it again later so he could watch, but now both he and Harry were enjoying his present angle, cock gliding smoothing in and out of Harry's greedy mouth in a manner that was as much comfort as sex.

"I think he's ready," said Severus, looking down into Harry's puppy-eager eyes. "George first," he added, wanting Harry to know, though it didn't much matter which twin it was, really.

Fred smirked. "I'll remember this later," he said, pulling out his slicked fingers and putting them back between George's legs and, from the look on George's face, straight up into him.

"We should definitely," said George, gasping as Fred worked him open mercilessly, "have each other while we have Harry."

"Definitely," agreed Fred. He helped steady George's hands to get his cock covered in slippery potion, then slicked his own. They shared a long, hungry kiss before getting into position, George behind Harry and Fred behind George, cocks aimed and ready to go.

They looked up expectantly, and Severus hummed in satisfaction as he realised that they were waiting for him, looking to him to lead despite Harry being the ultimate bottom. Severus pulled out until just his cockhead was within reach of Harry's hungry mouth, then nodded and began pushing in slowly, gratified to see that George and Fred were doing the same.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed, and he moaned as long as he could, the sound cut off when Severus' cock found the back of his throat and he had to swallow it down or choke. Once he was fully buried, Severus paused, denying Harry both air and pleasure for a few wicked seconds as he spoke. "Right now," he said, "Fred is in George, and George is inside you, buried as deeply as I am, taking you from both ends." He stroked Harry's cheek until the eyes flickered open and then added, "And there's nothing you can do about it."

Harry came.

Severus had been expecting a reaction, though not as dramatic a one as he got. Harry's whole body went tense for a long moment as he spilled silently onto the sheets, unable to even cry out around the cock in his throat, the cock he kept suckling even as he drowned in his own pleasure. Severus pulled out enough to let Harry breathe, petting him as though gentling an excitable pony and getting a look of such love and gratitude that it stole his own breath away.

Fred and George took this as their cue and began moving, pulling carefully out before driving inward, forcing Harry back down onto Severus' cock even as they filled him up from behind with the combined force of their lust.

Severus put his own hard-won control into practice, holding back his orgasm for his turn at Harry's arse, instead letting his cock be the comforting suck-toy that it could be, to Harry. "Come soon, George, but not you, Fred," he ordered, voice low and persuasive, watching their faces as Harry did something, probably one of those maddening clenches that could take a man by surprise by increasing his pleasure almost to the point of pain for one unpredictable moment.

George moaned and nodded, speeding up his thrusts, back onto Fred and then forward into Harry, over and over until he went still, threw his head back, and howled his pleasure in a rush of joy. Harry shivered, too, though he didn't come again, eyes fixed on Severus' face, begging wordlessly for the next part of his treat.

"All right, clean up and then George, you take over here, Fred, you'll be in Harry and I," said Severus with a slow, wicked smile, "will be in Fred."

Harry moaned again, wriggling with puppyish enthusiasm even as they all three pulled out and away, and began reshuffling themselves around Harry's bound form. "You're loving all this attention, aren't you, little pony?" said George, stroking Harry's head for a moment before carefully cleaning himself, not that there was much worry given the thorough cleaning the inside of Harry had undergone before their arrival.

Severus prepared Fred, the moans and half-pleas he got in response to his fingering giving him an idea of how long the next portion of the proceedings wouldn't be lasting. "Easy, now, don't short Harry his ride," teased Severus, earning him a glare from both twins.

"If you weren't so damned exciting," said George, cock already rising up to the task of filling Harry's eager mouth.

"It wouldn't be an issue," finished Fred. He twisted around to give Severus a deep kiss that was nearly as distracting as the clasp of his entrance around Snape's probing fingers.

George bent down long enough to kiss the taste of Severus from Harry's lips, before replacing it with his own thick, half-hard cock. "That's it, love," he coaxed, as Harry's mouth worked him over as best he could, given the restraints, "get me nice and hard so I can fill you all up."

"I'm ready for something filling, myself," said Fred, breaking the kiss and bending over Harry in an enticing echo of Harry's position; with his longer arms, his chest barely brushed over Harry's back, and he pressed a kiss to the back of Harry's head, getting a few caresses from his twin while he was in reach.

"I suppose I must oblige you, then," said Severus, positioning himself and pressing inward with a sigh of pleasure.

Fred's cock slid up and over Harry's tailbone, and Harry mewled as best he could around his mouthful, frustrated and wanting and spoiled enough to make Severus chuckle. "Go on, in him," he ordered, and Fred changed his angle and slipped his still-slick cock into Harry's waiting, hungry body, turning the mewl into a moan that was choked off completely as George thrust forward as well.

Severus grinned, then set a gruelling pace of short, sharp thrusts that kept Fred mostly inside Harry and himself mostly in Fred, though he braced his hands on Harry's hips to give George a small measure of control. George took advantage, using long thrusts to push in and out of Harry's mouth in counterpoint to the fast, hard fucking he was getting at the other end.

Fred reached around with one hand, using the other to keep him braced above Harry, and began to stroke Harry's hard, needy cock. "You do love to be fucked in any hole, don't you, little pony?" he said wickedly, whispering right into Harry's ear, the sound almost lost among the slap and slide of flesh, the harsh breaths and half-moans that filled the air above the bed.

Harry couldn't have answered even if Fred's question wasn't perfectly rhetorical, since they all knew exactly what Harry loved, and all loved to give to him in turn. Instead, Fred whispered a command that pleased Severus enough that he didn't protest the small usurpation of his implicit authority when Fred said, "Come with me, Harry."

After all, they knew from experience that Harry was more than capable of three orgasms in a session, more if he was properly motivated, one of the facets of youth that Severus remembered and envied just a little. He held his own release back once again, despite the wonderful shuddering of Fred and Harry both, eyes meeting George's in a flash of understanding as their two beloveds found pleasure in each other, and in them.

"I think you know what comes next," said Severus teasingly, when both Harry and Fred had calmed.

"Me in you?" asked George hopefully, grinning like a fool.

"And me in Harry," confirmed Severus, pulling out of Fred so that Fred could pull away, too, and take George's place at the other end of Harry. It took very little shuffling before they were all in place, and Severus grinned at George's noise of surprised lust when he found that the preparations for him were already made.

"Are you ready for me?" George asked, voice tight with lust.

Snape waited until Harry's mouth was once again put to work coaxing Fred back to life, then nodded, positioning his own cockhead at Harry's entrance, deliberately smearing the come already dripping from it. "Now," ordered Severus, the word almost lost in a gasp as George thrust forward with merciless force, shoving them all forward and breaching Snape's body with delicious roughness.

Snape let his pleasure finally rise, watching his Harry so very happy, feeling the way Harry's body welcomed him, the way George's cock filled him, seeing the love and happiness on Fred's face as he, too, began to use Harry's mouth the way it was meant to be used. He wouldn't last long, but none of them had, and he could only half-hear the words of foolish love and possession that fell from his lips, the noise drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. He wasn't sure how long he actually took, but he kept enough of his own control to issue an order he hoped they were all able to obey as he felt the pleasure build up too far to hold back.

"Come!" cried Severus, head going back, hips snapping forward to add his seed to the mix already filling Harry to the brim. Severus felt rather than saw as at least Harry and George managed to follow him over the edge.

When Severus' vision cleared he felt weak as a kitten, wrung out by the prolonged and much-awaited pleasure. Fred was just finishing his own orgasm, pulling out to smear the last droplets of come over Harry's lips with a proprietary look that would have bothered Severus, had he not known that it was he who held the keys to Harry's heart.

"I trust you found this a satisfactory introduction?" said Severus, after clearing his throat. Harry twisted around as best he could, grinning and licking his lips with the look of a child who'd had the biggest pudding he'd ever imagined and found it perfectly to his tastes.

"Oh yes, Severus, it's perfect," he said, giving a little wriggle of his hips.

George pulled out of Severus' body, and he and Fred proceeded to dismiss the bonds one by one, until they had collapsed and Harry with them, all four of them ending up in a tangle of sweaty limbs and kisses that was, to Severus' mind, nearly as satisfying as the sex had been.

Severus let his fingers drift over whatever flesh was nearest, cradling Harry close with one arm while the other wandered. He was amused to find that Harry still had a bit of need left in him, getting moans that led him to the erection rising greedily up to ask for more. "Would one of you like the honour of sucking the last drop of come from our horny little pony?" asked Snape, barely suppressing a chuckle.

"I told you I was insatiable," said Harry impishly, spreading his legs.

Severus let the motions lead him to Harry's dripping entrance, and he plunged two fingers inside just to watch Harry's face go from teasing to needy. "Oh," said Severus, as Fred wrapped his mouth around Harry's prick, "I think we can sate you."

George stayed where he was curled around Severus' back, but he reached forward tiredly to pinch and tease at Harry's nipples. "It's a good thing there's three of us," he said with a chuckle.

Harry was too busy moaning to manage a clever rejoinder, hips rocking into Fred's mouth and Severus' fingers, taking everything he could get with a shameless wantonness that Severus could only admire. Fred's eyes sparkled as he sucked, and soon two of his fingers had joined Severus' inside Harry, getting louder moans and writhing that would put an exotic dancer to shame.

Severus enjoyed every moment of it, feeling his own lust rise up again, as he was the only one among them who'd only had a single release. "Do you want to come with me inside you, love?" he asked, already pulling his fingers away since they all knew the answer.

"Please!" cried Harry, whimpering when Fred's fingers, too, receded, leaving his entrance open and waiting for Severus' easy thrust inside.

Harry's motions grew more frantic but his face took on a kind of peace, as though in this moment he had all he ever wanted and he was going to hold onto it for as long as his traitorous body would let him. Severus let the sight drive his own renewed lust, and even George must have found it inspiring. He draped himself over Severus and Harry so that he could trade kisses with them both, using his free hand to tease at both their bodies as he did so.

Fred kept sucking, and Severus kept on with his shallow thrusts, and soon enough the sensations built to the point of no return. "Now, Harry, now!" he urged, knowing that Harry had, in some part, trained himself to respond to Severus' voice, to heed such commands whenever he could.

Harry cried out and thrust into Fred's mouth, bucking his way through a fourth and Severus hoped final release. Severus held back just long enough to watch the joy suffuse Harry's features, then he let his own pleasure carry him along in Harry's wake.

When Severus came back to himself, George was gone and Harry cradled contentedly against Severus' chest, Fred kissing the now-soft prick that lay spent on one damp thigh. "Thank you, Severus," said Harry, his voice honey-thick and sweet. He pressed a kiss filled with that sweetness to Severus' mouth and then said softly, "I know not many men would do this for a lover, and I love you all the more for it."

Severus kissed him hard, possessively, then pulled back to kiss just the tip of his nose, bringing out the grin he loved best. "I would be a fool to risk losing you because I didn't dare share you," he said honestly, though of course there was more to it, their affection for the twins and the trust they'd all four built together in the past year.

"And one thing you're not," teased George, handing a hot towel to Fred and using his own to wipe off Severus as Fred began to clean Harry.

"Is a fool," said Fred, stealing a kiss from Harry before wiping away the last drying remnants of come and spit from his face and neck. Dry towels followed the damp, and soon Severus and Harry were tucked in warm and sleepy, and feeling quite spoiled.

"I'd've kept you anyway," protested Harry, blinking drowsily from his position quite firmly latched to Severus' side. He yawned and kisses Severus softly and added, "You're worth giving up a few things for."

"If you keep this up," said Severus, with a wink for the twins, "you'll never be rid of me." He stretched languidly as Harry snuggled up in a more comfortable position.

"That's the plan," said George, snuggling up behind Harry while Fred took the towels back to the loo and presumably cleaned himself, as George appeared to have already done.

"S'a good plan," murmured Harry, clearly worn out from his treat, as he was meant to be.

Fred took up a position next to Severus, and they all settled in for a well-earned afternoon nap.

Dinner would wait; after all, they'd already had their pudding.

* * *

Severus stopped Harry from adjusting his already straightened clothing a seventh time by the simple expedient of kissing him into insensibility. "You look fine, and since you're also attached, there is no reason for you to be nervous," said Severus, smoothing down Harry's hair with a proprietary caress.

Harry blushed, then shrugged. "You never taught me what to do if you're already taken, you know," he pointed out, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

Severus coughed, as he himself had only realised the lapse earlier that day, and it was far too late to try to teach him the delicate line he'd be expected to walk. "You're Harry Potter," he pointed out instead, "I doubt anyone will bother to take offence. And you've marked me sufficiently as yours that I don't expect there will be much argument."

In deference to the nature of their outing, Severus had allowed Harry to revisit his vaults until they found a token that would make it suitably obvious that Severus' affections were already claimed. Severus looked down at the ring on the smallest finger of his right hand, a gold lion with winking ruby eyes that had been hiding away in the Potter vault.

Harry's eyes followed Severus', and lit up with mischief. "I guess that'll work, as long as they don't mistake it for Percy's," said Harry, in a teasing tone that wasn't quite light enough to fool Severus into thinking that he wouldn't be bothered, if someone did believe such a thing.

Severus shook his head. "Percy's token is sufficiently anonymous to mark him as unclaimed, unlike ours, which are both clearly of someone else's choosing." Harry fidgeted with the Snape signet they'd both not yet grown used to seeing him wear. Severus wasn't sure he'd ever lose that small thrill of triumph he got, whenever he saw it gracing Harry's left hand.

Any further discussion was cut off by the sound of the Floo, and they hurried to the parlour to welcome Percy.

"Impeccable, as always," said Severus, smiling as he took in Percy's neat, buff-coloured robes, and the simple gold band adorning his left hand. The robes were simple and traditional, with much cleaner lines than the business cut Percy usually favoured. The fabric was a soft, touchable loose-woven cotton that draped over his form in a manner that hinted at what was underneath without ever revealing too much.

"Wow, you look, um," said Harry, face going a bit pink. "Fit," he finished lamely, eyes wandering over Percy's lean frame.

"Thank you both," said Percy, his own cheeks growing fetchingly heated at their scrutiny. "I wanted something that was more, er, inviting than my usual."

"These seem more suited to the summer weather, as well," said Severus, keeping his own eyes firmly on Percy's face. He dusted an invisible speck off of his own robes, charcoal grey in fine silk rather than his usual sturdy black, an indulgence he hadn't been able to resist when he'd gone to buy Harry robes for his birthday, since he needed something he could give his lover at their first public outing. Severus had insisted on his usual severe cut, though he'd allowed the tailor to add a bit of embroidery here and there, wispy designs that looked like steam or smoke twining around the cuffs, collar and hem.

Harry showed his own tight, dark green trousers and matching over-robe with a foolish little twirl. The trousers tucked into low black boots, but it was the robe that made the outfit. It had a high collar and close-fitting torso, which opened up at the waist to flare out down around his ankles. The sleeves were loose, gathered at the wrist, and cut open from shoulder on down to show off Harry's lean, suntanned arms. He looked taller in it, quite fit and fully adult, and more importantly fully ready to be admitted into the company of his fellow wizards.

The heavy silk was even charmed to keep him cool, and the colour complemented the carved stone in Snape's ring as though they'd been dyed to match. "I like the whooshy part," said Harry with a little bounce and rock of his hips that made the robes flare and wrap around his legs, "but I'm not so sure about the sleeves."

"You look splendid," assured Percy, reaching out to slide his fingers down one of those bared arms before squeezing Harry's hand. "It's a good thing Severus is going with us, or the wolves would be on you like a tender young fawn."

Harry laughed, still red-faced, and shook his head. "Come on, let's see if we can't find you an older buck of the proper persuasion," he said, heading for the pot of Floo powder on the mantle.

Percy sighed and followed, saying resignedly, "Sooner begun is soonest done."

Harry grinned, tossed his handful into the flames and said loudly, "Basil and Brass." The green flames whisked him away, and Severus echoed Percy's sigh.

"Go on, he'll drown without you," said Percy with a wry little gesture for Severus to precede him.

Severus shook his head and followed. He nearly stumbled into Harry, who had stopped on the hearth to stare at the room full of wizards who were staring back with a mix of astonishment and predatory hunger. "Come along, love," said Severus, garnering him a look of shocked pleasure from Harry, a number of glares from the crowd, and the freedom to move them both out of Percy's immediate path.

Wooster, the sole human servant among the staff of discreet house elves, descended upon them just as the fire rose up for a third time, disgorging Percy in his slightly soot-stained robes. A quick spell from the butler cleaned them all impeccably, even straightening Harry's glasses, and he cleared his throat and asked, "Three to dine?"

"Yes, please," said Harry, then he glanced at Percy and added, "though perhaps we should have a table with room for four?"

Wooster glanced down his nose, taking in the way Harry clutched at Severus and everyone's rings, and nodded, looking pleased. "Of course," he said, then turned to lead them across the room and past all of the hungry stares. "It is good of you to accompany your friend on his first visit," said Wooster, as he gestured them into a booth of padded red leather, fully big enough for five or six, should enough men come a-courting.

Harry's eyes lit up and he nodded. "I've never been, either, but we couldn't leave Percy on his own," he said, sliding into the booth first.

"It's been a few years since we've seen you, Mr. Snape," said Wooster, producing menus with a wave of his wand while Severus settled in next to Harry. Percy sat on the other side, leaving plenty of room on his left for any company that might choose to visit while sheltering Harry protectively between them.

Severus inclined his head. "A Hogwarts Professor hardly has time for such frivolity, but I now find myself in more felicitous circumstances," he said, glancing at Harry with undisguised fondness.

Harry grinned and fidgeted with his menu. Severus glanced down and found it to be a drink menu, rather than food, and he ordered without having to think overmuch. "I will have a Goodnight Kiss," he said, a sweetened Champagne drink flavoured with bitters, and an indication that the drinker had no interest in casual liaisons. Every ear in the room was perked up to listen to their initial orders, and he saw a few nods of satisfaction as his menu blurred, switching to starters.

"I'll have one, too," said Harry, having tried one the other day at Severus' behest. There were a number of cocktails that would send similar messages, so they'd experimented to find one that they both liked, in an evening that had ended with a very enjoyable drunken frolic.

A certain disappointment ran through the room, though Severus couldn't imagine they hadn't already figured out that Percy was the only _available_ target in their group.

Percy bit his lip as Wooster turned expectantly toward him, eyes flicking out over the waiting gentlemen before he ordered, "I'll have a Virgin Bellini." His voice was steady, though his cheeks flushed as certain men practically salivated over him, while others turned away at the desire for permanency that the sweet drink implied.

Wooster looked particularly satisfied, whisking himself away with a nod. Severus looked out over the room with the practised glance of a spy, taking in the men who'd gone back to their games once it became clear that Harry Potter's arse wasn't up for grabs, and Percy wasn't looking for a quick fumble or even a temporary mentor. A second glance showed him the men who were still paying attention, a few nervous sorts who were either wondering if they could sell the story to the _Prophet_ \-- a futile enterprise, as tomorrow morning's edition already had an interview with Harry and Severus about their future plans -- or trying to get up the courage to see if they were up to snuff.

By then the sharks were closing in, those who were either so confident in their charms that they didn't need to bolster themselves, or too attracted by Harry's celebrity or Percy's purity to be put off by mere drinks. "Good evening," said one man, a lean, serpentine sort of fellow with his dark hair swept back off his pale forehead in a decided vampiric style. He held out his hand for Percy to shake, sleeve riding up to reveal a wide bracelet of blood-red rubies glittering against a darkened silver setting. "Sharpton Peakes, at your service."

"Percy Weasley," he replied, shaking the proffered hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said, a perfectly neutral phrase designed to neither encourage nor discourage a suitor.

Sharpton smiled, and Severus felt Harry sliding over toward Percy just a touch, giving him the courage not to accept the first offer that came his way. "Your robes are a delightful fabric, is that linen?" he asked, a subtle way to inquire about Percy's purity and intentions.

Percy smiled thinly. "Unbleached cotton, from Gladrags' new summer line," he said, clutching gratefully at his drink when it arrived, bubbling merrily in a short, wide glass. He took a sip to avoid having to speak again, which unfortunately gave Sharpton the opportunity to ooze in closer, though he wasn't so gauche as to sit without invitation.

"I'm surprised you chose the Bellini, it's an exotic drink for a young man like yourself," said Sharpton.

Severus took a sip of his own and smiled the sort of smile that had made hardened Death Eaters blanch. "Percy has excellent taste, despite his relatively uneducated palate," said Severus, "and is often able to discern what he won't like without bothering to waste his time sampling it."

Sharpton's eyes narrowed, but he was no fool. "Is that so, Mr. Weasley?"

Percy nodded, shooting a grateful look to Severus. "Quite," he said, a bit shortly, but Severus couldn't blame him. Sharpton was clearly unsuitable, and even he knew it.

"Well, I won't monopolise your time," said Sharpton, glancing at the surrounding gentlemen, several of whom were clearly waiting to see how he fared.

He moved away, and Percy sagged a bit in relief, giving Severus a relieved grin. "That wasn't so bad," he said softly, sipping his peaches-and-cream concoction.

"At least he took the hint," said Harry, a bit too loudly for Severus' liking, though it seemed to have the effect of discouraging several more of the sharks whose interest was only in the virgin blood in the water.

Perhaps having someone along who was unafraid to make faux pas would prove advantageous after all.

A nervous laugh brought all of their attention to a mousy gentlemen who'd crept up while they were talking. "I'm sure he was only inquiring about the robe," said the man, taller than Harry but not by much, with brown hair, eyes and robes that were uniformly nondescript. "I'm Smith, Wendsleydale Smith," he said, holding out his hand for shaking. Smith had a small topaz stud in his right ear, though Severus couldn't imagine the man topping anyone.

Percy shook his hand, smiling gratefully for the out. "What're you drinking?" he asked, nodding toward the rather fruity-looking creation in the man's other hand.

Smith's smile brightened, which had the pleasant effect of lightening up his whole appearance. "It's a Strawberry Peach Daiquiri," he said, taking a sip through the pink plastic straw sticking out past the bright yellow paper umbrella.

Sweet enough to make one's teeth fall out, thought Severus with distaste, though certainly sending a message that his tastes might align with Percy's. "That sounds lovely," said Percy with a soft smile. "Would you care to join us for a bit? We were just going to order starters."

Smith's eyes lit up, going from boring brown to warm coffee as he slid into the booth, careful to leave room both between himself and Percy, and enough on his other side to accommodate a rival if need be. Very interesting indeed.

"I am Severus Snape, and my partner is Harry Potter," he interrupted; best to make sure the man realised that Percy came with baggage in the form of friends and family.

"Oh, of course, you two need no introduction," said Smith. Rather than attempt to shake hands past Percy, he just smiled and offered, "You may call me Ends, everyone does."

"Whyever for?" asked Harry, cocking his head curiously. His drink was nearly gone, and Severus would have to watch his intake; Harry had no more head for drink than he did anything else, unfortunately.

Smith flushed, and ducked his head. "It's a joke on my name and profession. I'm an undertaker, you see."

Severus felt a sudden sympathy for the poor man, but Harry blundered right on through, saying, "Well, I suppose you've been enjoying the break, then."

The man looked mortified for a brief moment, and then he laughed, shaking his head. "I must admit, though it's been bad for business, I appreciate what you've done for us more than most," he said, giving Harry a look full of such hero-worship as to make Severus wonder how much of a shine Percy was getting by proxy. "It's a slump I'm glad to have."

"Ends, I see you've made some new friends," said another stranger, this one more finely dressed with just a touch of arrogance. "Gentlemen, I'm Felix Goonsperth," he said, holding out a hand. "I'm in sales myself."

"Sales of what?" asked Harry ingenuously.

Severus smirked inwardly. These men hadn't had to deal with anyone quite like Harry in a long time, he suspected. Smith came to his rescue with a diffident little smile and said, "Mr. Goonsperth works at my firm, he deals with the living clientele."

"Yours are likely more peaceful," said Severus with a smirk.

Goonsperth looked delightfully scandalised, and Snape took a sip of his cocktail, finding it had grown sweeter as more of the sugar dissolved. He glanced over at Harry's empty glass and his smirk softened into a smile, thinking of how much sweeter things had grown between them since their first bitter meeting.

"I don't have much to do with the families, that's true," said Smith, his spark nearly snuffed by Goonsperth's presence.

Percy snorted. "A family like mine would be enough for anyone, I suppose," he said, giving Smith a glance that rekindled some of the warmth between them.

"You have a large family?" asked Smith, genuine curiosity in his face.

"Oh yes, five brothers and a sister, plus my parents of course," replied Percy cheerfully; he'd grown much more relaxed about his family since they'd reconciled last summer, and even attended dinner at the Burrow on a regular basis now. "My oldest brother's already married and starting on a brood of his own."

"I didn't know Fleur was expecting," said Harry with a grin. Harry had dragged Severus to their wedding a few weeks ago, and then convinced the twins to help make it up to him that night. Severus found himself smiling a rather warmer smile than was appropriate for the occasion, if not the memory, and he stifled it by draining off the last of his drink.

Water appeared in front of all three of them, showing a perceptiveness on Wooster's part that Severus appreciated.

"Oh yes, since before the wedding, actually," said Percy with a fond smile. "I think it helps that he's already started to carry on the family name, with Mum, I mean."

Harry laughed, and they all followed suit, with varying degrees of politeness. Severus stroked a soothing hand down Harry's back, a gesture that would seem appropriately possessive to their audience. Harry had never had any family to accept or reject his choice in partners, and Severus wasn't blind enough to think he didn't sometimes envy the Weasleys.

"I've got just two, both younger," said Smith to an attentive Percy. "My sister's managing the Holyhead Harpies now, and my brother and his wife help out with the family business."

Percy's focus on Smith was more effective than an actual brush-off, and Severus was relieved when Goonsperth drifted away while they chattered on about work and family, not even bothering with the careful system of codes as they got to know one another.

"Should we order?" asked Harry in a whisper, reminding Severus that whatever else was going on, they'd best get Harry fed before the alcohol went to his head completely.

As if conjured, Wooster appeared at Severus' elbow. "Have you decided on starters, gentlemen?" he asked.

"Harry and I will share a plate of mixed pakoras," said Severus with a smug look; he knew they were Harry's favourite, and he got warm squeeze to his thigh as a reward, one that lingered a bit longer than perhaps it ought, not that Severus minded.

"Oh, I haven't really looked... What's good here, Ends?" asked Percy, breaking reluctantly away from their discussion.

"Perhaps the miniature pasties?" suggested Smith with a little smile. "I have to admit, I don't often eat a full-course meal here."

"It's my treat tonight," said Harry, and Severus gave him a little nudge with his foot to discourage such revelations. Harry gave him a look and added, "Percy's not normally so extravagant."

This seemed to encourage Smith, so Severus gave Harry's ankle an apologetic caress with his foot, getting a more heated look in response. "That sounds good to me, if you'd like to share?" said Percy with a smile.

"I'd love to," said Smith.

Harry looked insufferably smug.

Wooster took himself away while the menus changed yet again, and Severus took a moment to confer with Harry in whispers so he could order for them once the time came. Percy took that as his cue to discuss food with Smith, and it wasn't until another suitor arrived that the conversation faltered.

"Evan Johnson," said the young man, handsome in his way and not much older than Percy. Severus recognised Johnson as one of his former students in both Potions and Etiquette. Johnson held out his right hand and Severus saw that it was free of a token, a quick glance showing a ring nearly identical to Percy's on his left.

Percy shook, looking rather charmingly bewildered, as though he couldn't imagine why someone of Johnson's preferences, youth, and charm would bother with him. "Percy Weasley, and this is Wendsleydale Smith."

"Oh, I know Ends," said Johnson with an easy grin. "In fact, I just wanted to tell you not to dismiss him out of hand. Even though things didn't work out, I'll always be happy I gave him a chance."

Severus hid his amusement by turning to whisper in Harry's ear. "I expect that sort of endorsement, should you ever tire of me," he teased.

"Never happen," murmured Harry, nuzzling shamelessly at Snape's cheek. "I don't intend to let you out of my sight."

Severus was tempted to steal a kiss, but he knew that such a public display would be terribly rude even here, so instead he forced himself to pay attention to Smith's blushing reply, and Percy's expression of bemusement.

"Well, erm, thank you," said Percy, obviously unprepared for this eventuality.

Severus took this has his cue and said smoothly, "Your perspective is much appreciated." He paused to place a possessive hand on Harry's shoulder before asking, "Is your partner here tonight?"

"Oh, no, I mean, I haven't found another since Ends and I broke it off," said Johnson with a shy shrug. "Not a lot of 'em here as want to pair off with a Muggleborn like me."

Severus nodded, nudging Harry to move over. Wooster appeared beside him and said, "Allow me," tapping the booth with his wand, which obliged by growing another seat's worth of space on Snape's right.

"Would you care to join us for dinner?" offered Harry, seeing where Severus was going with this. His invitation would remove any impropriety, since he clearly wasn't looking for someone of Johnson's tastes, nor was he looking to set up Severus, with whom he'd already been appallingly affectionate.

"I'd love to," said Johnson with a real smile. "I'll have my usual, Wooster, if it's not too late."

"It's never too late," said Wooster with a smile that Severus thought was almost fatherly, as if he, too, had grown fond of the boy.

Severus wondered if Harry would adopt every unpartnered young man of their persuasion as his personal cause, and supposed it was better than stray dogs. "Harry will have the curry, and I would like to revisit your excellent beef," said Severus, with just a hint of teasing in his gaze as he passed their menus to Wooster.

"You always did enjoy the beef," said Wooster back, only his eyes betraying the private joke; the few times Severus had been here before, he'd bottomed exclusively, and Wooster wouldn't have missed the change in his preferences. "And for you, Mr. Weasley?"

"Oh, um. Lamb, please, with mint jelly," said Percy, glancing back over the menu. It would reinforce his original statement, not that he needed to bother at the moment, and was fortunately also a dish that Severus knew from experience that Percy enjoyed.

"I'll have the steak with bourbon sauce," said Smith with a smile.

Harry nearly choked on his water, and Snape spent a few moments soothing him as well as hiding his own amusement at the inadvertent reference to Harry's first mock-courting dinner. Sweet and more sweet, this Smith was decidedly looking for a long and loving partnership, and he made no bones about it.

Wooster vanished again and their starters arrived, along with water for Smith and Johnson, and a single copy of the drink menu, a gentle reminder that they might want to make another statement. Johnson's usual appeared to be some sort of dumpling, and they all positioned their serviettes in the obscure code that Severus had neglected when teaching Harry the other etiquette. "Allow me," said Severus, draping Harry's left thigh with the serviette folded point-to-point with the doubled corners angled toward Severus, indicating both his preference and his taken status. Severus did the same with his on the right, noting that Johnson's was open on his left leg, as was Percy's, and Smith's was half-folded on the right to show his specific interest in Percy.

"It's always difficult to remember, though I've had a bit of practice by now," said Johnson, looking at Harry with a conspiratorial grin.

"I'd never get anywhere without Severus' help," said Harry, saying a world of things in those few words, some of which even he must be aware of, or so Severus hoped.

Johnson chuckled. "I can't say I didn't have a few designs on him when he taught me, but I knew I didn't have a chance," he said, cheerfully digging into his food. "Still, I'll always be beholden to him."

"Is this your mysterious teacher?" asked Smith delightedly, and that started the three boys all regaling him with tales of the things Severus had taught them, though in Percy's case it was more polish than the sort of basics he'd had to impart to the two Muggle-raised boys.

"You're all having so much fun, I hesitate to interrupt," said a soft voice, drawing them all out of their reverie.

"Nonsense," said Smith, patting the seat next to him. "This is Jonathan Crutherford, he works at Flourish and Blotts, in the ordering department. He takes care of all my special requests, even the rare stuff."

"Do join us," said Severus, gesturing. Anyone of whom Smith approved so readily would be good company at the very least, and a possible partner for both Percy and Johnson, if his glinting signet was any indication.

"You're very kind," said Crutherford, and Severus placed him by the upper-crust accent as someone who'd been a year or two below Severus, in Ravenclaw, from working purebloods who held a status much like that of Muggles' impoverished gentry.

"I have enough to do keeping Harry entertained," teased Severus, "without such an embarrassment of unattached men." He gestured to Percy and Johnson, though he skipped over Smith, who was clearly unsuitable for Crutherford despite their obvious friendship.

Crutherford smiled, relaxing as he took the empty seat next to Smith. "Well, I wouldn't want to let a classmate down," he said, confirming Severus' admittedly vague recollection of him.

The mostly-emptied starter plates had long-ago vanished, and Wooster popped back in as soon as Crutherford was settled to take another round of drink orders. "The same all around?" he asked, one eyebrow up as he saw the new addition to the table. "And your usual, Mr. Crutherford?"

"Please," said Crutherford, inclining his head. "It's been positively ages since I had one of your whiskey sours." Severus was amused, for despite the name, a whiskey sour contained a fair amount of sugar, just like all the drinks being ordered in their little corner. And probably unlike most of the drinks out there among the rest of the waiting gentlemen, who'd gone back to their own rounds of drinks and subtle pick-ups, now that Percy's dance card was clearly full for the night.

"For us as well," said Severus, indicating himself and Harry.

"I'll have a shandy," said Johnson, with a surprisingly shy glance over at Crutherford. Another sweetened concoction, made of beer and ginger ale mixed half and half, a classic pub drink for both wizards and Muggles.

"Can you make up what he had, only virgin?" asked Percy, practically squirming at his own forwardness.

Wooster's answering smile was smugly pleased. "Of course, Mr. Weaslely. And for you, Mr. Smith?"

"A Bellini, please," said Smith, glancing at Percy with the same sort of bold shyness.

Severus nearly laughed and how very well-suited they were.

"Very good, sirs, your dinner will be up momentarily," said Wooster, and then he vanished again, in the way of very fine waiters.

"So," said Severus, catching Crutherford's eye, "what's been keeping you away from the Basil & Brass and their whiskey sours?"

"Business on the continent," said Crutherford, answering Severus, though his gaze kept drifting to Johnson. "It's all dreadfully boring, not to mention difficult to tell the fops from the," he paused and coughed, obviously to forestall a crude joke, "gentlemen of our persuasion."

"I'm surprised you'd look among the Euros anyway," said Smith with a chuckle. "They'd never let you whisk them off to your cottage on the moors."

"Yes, well, it did make for a lonely few months," replied Crutherford, glancing from Smith to Johnson. "I see you two have parted ways since I left."

A look of faint pain passed over both their features, and it was Smith who spoke up, saying, "Ah, well, you know how these things go." He gave a pained little shrug, and shot an apologetic glance to Johnson, who looked just as regretful.

Severus' estimation of them both went up a notch or two at this obvious evidence of a painful and unwelcome, yet amiable, parting.

"And is this your new," Crutherford paused, as if trying to remember to the convolutions of language required.

"No," said Harry, saving him from having to come up with a euphemism. "Severus is mine."

With that rather loud and final claim, Severus saw the last light of hope go out of a few eyes, and he couldn't help but pull Harry a bit closer. "As he says," said Severus, with a proud smile he was sure none there would blame him for.

"I haven't found anyone to play chess at my level yet," said Johnson, trying very hard not to look like a hopeful puppy. "Perhaps we could have a game later?"

Crutherford's answering smile was full of surprised pleasure, and he nodded. "I'd like that. I always envied Ends the excellent games you two played," he said.

Dinner appeared on cue, including a tender steak for Crutherford, broiled in butter and accompanied by a roasted sweet potato.

Severus was amused to see Johnson blush.

They all dug into their food, conversation consisting of polite allusions with occasional pauses for Crutherford to remember the way of it, or Harry to say something entertainingly blunt and then try to keep from losing too much face. Severus wasn't sure if things would work out with their two budding couples or not; he hadn't missed the expression of interest on Percy's face when talking to Crutherford, nor the longing looks that Johnson and Smith directed to one another, but he felt that this would at least give Percy the courage to try again.

He was so pleased, he even let Harry order them a third round with afters, and feed him bites of cream cake in front of the whole affronted crowd.

Fortunately for Percy, none of those who'd chosen to join them seemed to mind much, as they were all too intent on each other.

"I think it is time I take Harry home, before he embarrasses us past all redemption," said Snape, after allowing Harry one single, lingering kiss.

Percy chuckled. "I'm sure you know just how to take care of him," he said with a fond look, clearly comfortable right where he was. "I'll be along tomorrow for tea?"

"As planned," said Severus. "Do owl ahead if you're going to bring any of your new friends," he added, an implicit invitation which he was sure none of them could resist. After all, how often did a wizard get invited to tea with Harry Potter?

Johnson stood politely, though Severus could tell he was trying to figure a way to end up closer to Crutherford when he sat back down.

"I like them all," said Harry, leaning into Severus drunkenly. "But I like Severus better."

"You'll like me even better at home," said Severus. He scooted out, pulling Harry after him, and steady his swaying lover before leading him across to the Floo.

"What about the bill?" asked Harry, as they reached the hearth.

Wooster appeared as if conjured, presenting a receipt all ready for signing, including a spot for his Gringotts vault number. "Here you are, sir," he said.

"Anything else Percy gets, it's on me, too, for the lot of 'em," said Harry with a wave toward their table. Wooster raised one eyebrow in inquiry, and Severus nodded to confirm that the promise wouldn't cause regret once Harry was sober.

"It's something of a birthday gift," said Severus, though Percy's birthday wasn't for another week. "Potter's vault will cover the expense."

"Very good, sir," said Wooster, not even glancing at the overly generous tip Harry had scrawled along with his signature. "I trust we will see you again?"

Severus chuckled, thinking of the machinations necessary, but also of the chance to allow Harry some time in semi-polite society, to get used to watching his tongue. "Perhaps," he said, pulling out his personal supply of Floo powder, "if Harry wishes it."

Wooster's smile seemed to linger even after he whisked himself away, and Severus sent Harry ahead, pleased to note that he enunciated very clearly despite his overindulgence.

That meant he was sober enough for a different sort of indulgence, which fit in with Severus' plans perfectly.

* * *

Severus looked around the room with a sense of disbelief that his life had finally taken a turn not only for the better, but for such wonder that he would have laughed at any man who suggested even two years ago that he might end up thus. It was the day after Severus' fortieth birthday, and Harry was curled, naked and purring, on a cushion at Severus' feet, perfectly warm in the summer's heat despite the cold hearth. Fred and George were lounging in their altogether on the deep couch they'd conjured, looking sated and quite pleased with themselves. Severus himself wore a thin lounging-robe of black silk, the very least of his birthday gifts from Harry.

"This one looks good, Harry," said Fred, brandishing one of the numerous offer letters that had come in since Harry's NEWT scores arrived, and rumour had been allowed to leak that he was seeking an apprenticeship.

George stretched out over Fred so he could see it, and read off, "Quimble's Quaffle and Snitch."

Harry didn't bother to open his eyes, just angled his head so that Severus' caressing fingers could get to another area of his scalp. "Yeah, I liked the idea of that one, but it's in Perth. Australia, I mean. Long Portkey."

"Oh, yeah," said Fred, sending it to the Maybe pile.

George picked up the next sheet off the stack and laughed. "Remember that bloke you told us about from Christmas, the one who was angling for Percy's lily-white arse?"

Harry blinked open sleepy eyes and shrugged. "Charles something, right?"

"Well, apparently you've piqued his interest, and he's eager for you to consider what he's got to offer," said Fred, reading over George's shoulder now.

"No," said Severus, getting a chuckle from the twins.

Harry yawned. "The master has spoken," he said teasingly, turning to suckle enticingly on a couple of Severus' fingertips before putting his head back under them for further scratching. "I didn't like him anyway."

"You have always been able to ferret out those who have only their own interests in mind," said Severus, fingers teasing through the silky strands of Harry's hair as much for his own pleasure as Harry's.

Harry went back to purring.

The twins sent that one to the No pile, which was by far the largest of the three. There was only one sheet in the Yes pile so far, an offer from the Firebolt people, though Severus knew there were a few more equally appealing offers among the unsorted letters.

"I am sure you can find him something with more social value than Quidditch supplies," drawled Severus, his tone one of dry humour.

Harry bit Severus' fingers, and they all laughed.

"Here's one doing potions," said George, and then he laughed. "Actually, this one's for you, Severus."

The page floated delicately over to Severus, who read it over with increasing interest. "It is a research position, one that would allow me a certain amount of autonomy," he said. He'd done all right so far this summer, settling into Harry's home and lab and making them his own, and he had a selective clientele for custom work that kept him in ingredients, though not much more. "I could even keep working at home."

Harry grinned, nuzzling at Severus' knee, his sleepy satiation dropping away now that Severus wasn't actively encouraging it. "I like knowing you're home, even if I won't be," said Harry, sounding almost shy. "Is that selfish?"

"Seeing as you provide me with everything I could want or need, I think you're allowed to be a bit selfish," said Severus, leaning down for a sweet kiss. "And to be honest, after years of living where I work, I find I prefer the convenience of it."

Harry grinned. "Good," he said, then he wrinkled his nose. "No Australia," he said, waving his hand. Severus watched with satisfaction as the Quimble's job offer floated to the No pile, followed by several others which would have required long commutes.

"This one's local," said Fred, stealing the page from George's hand.

"It's boring, though," said George, turning to bite at Fred's nipple in revenge.

"Which one is it?" asked Harry, though his attention had wandered back to Severus, and he began to burrow his face up under Severus' new robe in a rather adorable manner.

Severus chuckled. "You won't be able to concentrate if you do that," he admonished, with very little sincerity.

"Charmed c-cabinetry," said Fred, squirming under George's ministrations.

Harry nuzzled in a bit further and said, "Maybe."

Severus obliged him by spreading his legs, setting aside his own offer in favour of Harry's rather more immediate one.

"Here's one for making luck charms," said Fred, after sending the last letter on its wobbly way to the Maybe pile.

George began to nibble downward, and Harry upward, getting moans of appreciation from both of their lovers.

"I believe you've lost his attention for the moment," said Severus, chuckling when George proved that Harry wasn't the only one with his mind on other things.

Fred moaned, just barely holding onto his self-control long enough to send the offer back to the pile, before taking over and thrusting his cock between his brother's teasing lips. Harry got Severus' attention by sucking one of Severus' bollocks into his mouth, and all thoughts of the future were turned to the immediate one, and the joy that could be found celebrating the life they'd already made for themselves.

The letters would wait until tomorrow, and tomorrow would come soon enough, though not as soon as the four of them.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Betwixt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1468114) by [swtalmnd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd)




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